


St. Brutus’s Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys -The Light Version-

by Maizeysugah



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bondage, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, Less dark but still dark, M/M, Non-Consensual, Orgy, Out of Character, Overly Gorgeous Characters, PWP, Threesome - M/M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-03-30 03:08:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 108,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3920677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maizeysugah/pseuds/Maizeysugah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter is sent to reform school to cure his overtly homosexual tendencies. Unfortunately, everyone else’s parents have sent their boys there for the same reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Slattern of Smeltings

**Author's Note:**

> This is a filthy piece of trash I wrote a long time ago and am currently rewriting. Everyone is somewhat OOC, especially Harry. There are plotty bits, it is a story but it's mostly smut. There's some non-con moments, nothing violent or graphic. This is a lot of fluff, mostly. Don't read this if you are underage, the damage to your psyche would be severe! Enjoy.
> 
> Although it says "light version" it's still relatively dark.  
> 11/14/16 I've been tinkering with this story, as I am with a few others I've posted up, trying to break through my ghastly bout of writer's block. I'm removing most of the humor and adding more drama. Nothing spectacular, just adding a lot of emotions I neglected to properly map out and also some of the non-con I merely alluded to near the end.

The street was like any other in the small town of Little Whinging. All the houses looked the same. Bright sunlight peaked from the east, warming the busy concrete street. Teenaged children walked together in packs, donning their Smeltings or secondary school uniforms. They passed by number four Privet Drive, some staring and some pointing to the boy sitting alone on the stoop.

”That’s the one!”

“Bender!”

“Pillow-biter!”

Harry Potter propped his head on his fists, glaring back at everyone who looked at him. It was not his fault he could not control himself, as hard as he tried. He was deceptively beautiful, angrily staring back at a world that had treated him so unfairly. To look at him, it was easy to imagine him perfectly innocent, if only that were true. He had a very pretty face, set with bright-green eyes and bow-shaped lips. The summer’s growth spurt that had stretched and emphasized his coltish legs and knobby knees, made him look more like a gangly, awkward teenager.

“Get in the car.”

“Can’t, it’s locked,” he said without looking up. He would have been inside the car long ago if it was open. He hated everyone pointing out the Slut of Smeltings to their friends.

Vernon Dursley snagged the boy by the arm and dragged him over to the car. “Get in, sit down, shut up and don’t speak,” he warned, thrusting Harry into the back of the car and buckling his belt for him. “No whining.”

“Yes, Uncle Vernon,” Harry murmured under his breath the moment Vernon settled into his seat.

“What did I tell you?”

Harry shrugged and flinched at the large hand threatening to smack the side of his head. “They’ll help you with that, too. It was highly recommended for sort like you. Never again will you discredit our family name with your backtalk and boy-touching.” Vernon was slightly more than agitated this morning. He had hoped it would not come to this moment.

“I’m not trying to ruin—” Another threatening hand. Harry shushed himself.

“Do you honestly want me to come back there, boy?” Vernon’s angry words were minced with concern. All he wanted was a normal nephew. When he and his wife had taken the poor boy in they tried their hardest to keep him from growing up like his mother and father; unemployed alcoholics who drained the family fortune without a thought.

Harry shook his head quickly. It simply was not worth exerting any more energy over another pointless argument when he knew he’d more than likely need it when they arrived at his new school.

“I am trying to stay calm, you little ponce. Do. Not. Speak.”

Harry was newly enrolled in the last place he ever thought he’d be: St. Brutus’s Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys. He had been threatened to be sent to the facility so many times throughout his life that he almost thought it didn’t really exist. He thought it was some myth that parents told their children about to keep them from sneaking out of bed at night. But it was real and he was going.

The drive seemed to last too long, at first. Harry anxiously fidgeted in his seat to watch the heavy traffic thin out. Industrial buildings surrounding his town slowly disappeared only to be replaced by a thick forest of trees.

Harry was a nance—A right shirt-lifter. That was what he had been labelled early on by everyone, but it was so fucking true. There was something to say about his love for the niceties of being so naughty, it was boundless. Not that he had ever really done ‘it’ to completion. He was, in fact, still very much a virgin. It was the thrill of kissing and petting, sitting in large boys’ laps and letting them play with him that made the punishments so well worth it. Unfortunately, he had a rather bad habit of getting caught each and every time.

He traced his finger over the small lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead, one of the three distinctive things he did a lot of when he was nervous. He had attained it on impact, at the very same moment he lost both of his parents to a car accident so many years back.

He watched the sunlit sky turn gloomy. The forest seemed to swallow them up. The endless weave of thick branches twined overhead, covering the path of the road and darkened their view. Suddenly, the car ride had gone by much too fast.

“We’re almost there. I want you to promise me you’ll work on these issues, boy.”

Harry bobbed his head up and down hastily.

“This place cost me an arm and a leg to get you into. They’re going to help you learn to deal with your….h-h-hhhhomosexuality.” Vernon cleared his throat with a heavy cough as if the word had left residue on the back of his tongue. “It may not cure you, but you’d better goddamned well stop wiggling your little arse in the air every time a man looks at you for too long. You think Dudley hasn’t told me about school? He can’t beat the boys chasing after you fast enough. He was so worried, couldn’t keep up with your sneaking off.”

Harry mouthed an apology, hoping it was good enough and not too much. The last thing he needed was another threat of a smack.

Vernon gave him a weak smile through the rear-view mirror as the outline of a large facility cut through the forest and came into view. “Now don’t fret,” he said lightly, feeling a slight pang of guilt as he watched Harry’s tanned skin drain pale before his eyes. “This place is top notch. You’ll receive a wonderful education here. They’ll work on this freakishness your parents have cursed you with. It’s not your fault, boy. I hear this er…this gay thing you have contracted is actually in your genetics or something like that. They’ll teach you how to control it here.”

Harry gave him a nod before craning his neck to look the school over. The building was large, ancient and quite intimidating. Thick ropes of ivy dripped from the outer walls. The gloomy, castle-like feel of it sent shivers down Harry’s spine. There was evil abroad, he could sense as much; something wicked was in the air.

They pulled into the entranceway and Harry gasped, eyeing two men dressed in black standing by the side of the drive. They were signalling them to stop. He sat back in his seat and his thumb flew into his mouth. He sucked on the pad, desperately wishing the car would swallow him up.

Vernon stepped out of the car and shook the each man’s hand before opening the door and waving Harry out. “Thank you for greeting us, Professor Snape, Mr Riddle. This is my nephew, Harry,” said Vernon, resting his hand on the discomfited boy’s shoulder. “Harry, Mr Snape is your new headmaster. Mr Riddle is-”

“I’m a student here,” Tom Riddle replied to Vernon. His long lashed, velvet-brown eyes were on Harry.

Feeling the tall boy burning holes through his clothing, Harry could not help but glance up Riddle’s way. He met his leering glance, fluttering and fanning his own thick brush of black eyelashes. He shifted around and stood straight-backed to give the handsome young man a better view of his body. But the hand on his shoulder tightened. Harry snapped from his reverie and hunched back into submission while his uncle and the headmaster conversed.

“Mr Riddle is graduating this term but has agreed to stay on to help assist me with the boys. He has such a wonderful influence on them. He’s so intelligent and gifted. He’s going to be a doctor. So, as of now, he’ll be at my side when he’s not in classes to learn the coaching methods he was so fond of when he first arrived.”

Harry detected a small amount of sarcasm in the man’s voice. Try as he might though, he had no idea what it meant. Snape was an odd bloke. He was not at all as classy as his previous headmaster or even half as interesting. His dark suit had several small grease stains around the lapel. His thick curtain of inky-black hair hung limply around his face, covering a great deal of his expression. He was unreadable and that did not agree with Harry at all.

“Well, that is just wonderful. Congratulations, Riddle. I certainly hope you can work Harry into your schedule,” said Vernon eagerly.

Riddle stood a good head taller than Harry and was impeccably outfitted - and absolutely one-hundred percent homosexual. That much was a certainty. Harry could almost smell the amorous aroma of lust exude from his pale skin. But as handsome as Tom was, he too was a mystery. His eyes were devoid of emotion; replicating Snape’s. Both men gave Harry a mild creepy sensation that crawled up and down his spine.

“I will certainly find the time to work him into my schedule, Mr Dursley,” Tom replied, and Harry was positive this time that he understood the hidden meaning behind the twinge in his voice.

“Would you like to walk with us while we introduce your nephew to the other students, sir? I do understand the drive was a long one and that you have to return to work. It would be no bother if you haven’t got the time. He is in good hands now,” said Snape.

Vernon gave Harry’s shoulder one final squeeze. “I really must be going. I’ll have missed a half day’s work by the time I get back. Harry, grab your bags from the boot.”

Without a word, Harry moved to the back of the car. He reached in but stopped, feeling the warmth of the tall boy behind him bend him over into the boot. “Let me get those for you.” Tom’s body moulded around his as he wrenched the two pieces of luggage out of the car. “Come on, follow me,” he said, giving Harry a lovely smile.

“Good bye, Uncle Vernon,” Harry mouthed, looking behind him and waving as he followed Tom over to the side of the school.

Vernon wagged a finger at him, but smiled. “Remember what I said, Harry. No. Problems.”

Harry pushed back the mental image of what was to come and nodded. “No problems, sir.”

* * *

“Oh my God!” Seamus Finnigan ran down the hallway toward the dormitories. He had caught a glimpse of the new boy and could not wait to let everyone know about it. He slid on his socks into the last and largest dormitory room, coming to a halt on the side of his bed. “He’s here. He’s bloody gorgeous. I saw him first!”

Several heads popped up from their pillows. Everyone turned their attentions to the empty bed that had been made up the day before, signalling to them that they were getting a new roommate. The bed was smack-dab-in-the-middle-of Riddle’s and Draco Malfoy’s, one of the seven boys who currently resided in the dormitory. Draco pumped his arm in victory. “I was hoping he’d be hot. Exactly how hot is he?”

“Sexy fucking-hot, Draco. Pretty, really long legs, he’s skinny, got lips that look like they can suck all night,” mumbled Seamus, until a pillow hit him in the face. “What?”

Neville Longbottom shrugged at him as he retrieved his pillow from the floor. “You’re not supposed to talk that way. You’re going to get us all into trouble again.”

“I’m not looking to get another dose of ‘Straightjacket Day’,” added Cedric Diggory, who was hugging his knees on his bed glaring up at Seamus. “Shut up about sex, especially when he gets here.”

Draco sat over the side of his bed and raked his fingers through his hair. “�Discretion is key, Cedric. Never let Snape hear you talking about sex and you won’t get into as much trouble.”

“I know what discretion is, idiot! I wasn’t even talking about sex. I said Cormac had a nice smile and BAM—I’m in the Quiet Room for a day and a half again. I can’t take this sodding school anymore.” The Quiet Room was the least of anyone’s worries. Cedric, being quite new himself, had no idea how much detail went into the punishments of Snape’s private school for troubled youth.

It was true that at one time the school held actual incurably criminal boys and to some extent it still did. But now the majority of males were either simple troublemakers from wealthy families who had been expelled from every other school in Britain or homosexual boys from wealthy families who did not wish for this behaviour to continue.

“Will you all kindly shut the hell up?” Ronald Weasley glared around the room before stuffing his head between his pillow and the mattress. “Thank you, going back to sleep.”

The seventh boy to currently reside in the room, Blaise Zabini, whose bed sat closest to the door, looked back at everyone with a finger over his lips. “Riddle’s coming!”

All six boys pulled their duvets up to their chins and closed their eyes as the large shadow of the headmaster’s favourite entered the room before him. “And this is where you’ll be sleeping. That’s your bed right there. And so ends our little tour. I hope I haven’t bored you to tears.”

Draco felt his jaw hit the floor. Tom Riddle, who was pretending to now be Mr Straight-as-a-fucking-arrow was clearly and openly flirting with the new boy in front of the others.

“No, it was great. Thanks.”

“If you want to settle in there’s a changing room down here, you can keep all your belongings there. Uniforms are to be worn during class time and therapy sessions, but besides that those jeans and t-shirts you’re used to wearing are fine. C’mon, I’ll show you where to put your things.”

Draco opened an eye but it was much too dark to get a clear image of him. With a sigh, he settled back into bed to wait for the bell. 

* * *

“Er,” Harry looked himself over in the floor-length mirror, hating the school uniform more than anything he could ever remember. He yanked at the hem of his navy knee pants, wishing they were just a tick longer to cover up the knobbiness of his knees. “This is awful,” he mumbled, eyeing Tom’s reflection.

“Personally, I’ve always thought it was a humiliation tactic.” Tom undressed and redressed into his uniform and stood beside the pretty boy in front of the mirror. “I suppose we do look quite silly but it’s only for the summer months. We’ll be able to wear trousers by the end of October.” He helped Harry adjust his school tie and button his cuffs. Harry admired his simple dedications at such an early hour. Perhaps Tom was not as bad as he first thought.

“Why are you here? I mean, I can tell you’re gay, but uh…I mean, you look really smart, like you could outsmart people into thinking that you’re straight,” he asked, curious, watching the tall boy squirm around in front of the mirror.

Tom shrugged. “Never mind that; why don’t you tell me why your uncle dragged you out here so many weeks after the school year has started? Did you get expelled from somewhere else?”

Harry gave a quick nod. “I got into very big trouble with my headmaster. I was sitting on his lap.”

Tom fiddled with his tie as he glanced Harry’s way. “That doesn’t sound too terrible.”

Harry flushed a bright shade of pink. “Well, I was sort of getting him off when his secretary walked in on us.”

Tom blinked. “I see. So you fancy older men, then?”

Harry cringed but said it, thinking it might do more good than harm. “I fancy big men. Professor Lupin was massive - if you get my gist.”

“Okay…” Tom smacked his lips, feeling his mouth begin to water.

Harry looked him over again under proper lighting. He was very tall, broad in the shoulders, lean; gorgeously perfect—definitely a big man.

Tom cleared his throat through a shiver. His careful mask began to slip while his eyes travelled over Harry once more. “And you got expelled for enjoying great - big - Fuck, that’s hot.”

The buzzing sound of a school bell filled the room, causing Harry to jump. He was certain Tom was about to kiss him. His eyes seemed to glaze over at that moment and he fell back into his emotionless posture. “That’s the morning bell. No one is to get up until it sounds. Once you get up you immediately dress and groom yourself before class. Bathing is only to be done at night, as to prevent us from masturbating in our beds and hiding the evidence.” There was no sarcasm or humour in Tom’s voice. Harry got the impression that what he said rang as true as the bell blaring in his ears. If only Vernon had stayed on for the tour to hear that one, he thought to himself.

The changing room began to fill up. Several boys filed in and moved to their lockers to retrieve their uniforms. Harry stepped back into the corner of the room as he looked them over. Tom remained at his side, with his eyes locked onto him.

“Oho!”

The sound startled Harry and he turned toward it. Six boys, looking around his age, stood in a pile and stared blatantly back at him. “These are our dorm mates,” Tom whispered into his ear while flashing the boys a triumphant smile.

Draco, nearly as tall as Riddle, wiped away the line of drool from his lip, forgetting to swallow as he looked over the new boy. He hardly noticed the competitive façade Tom was giving off.

“Harry, this is Blaise, Neville, Seamus, Cedric, Ronald and *cough* Draco. Everyone, this is Harry Potter. He’s one of our sort, so please refrain from getting him into any trouble and not talk about you-know-what in front of him!”

All six boys nodded in unison and moved on to their lockers to dress. Tom watched with contempt as Harry’s eyes followed the gorgeous blond-haired boy as he sauntered away. Pulling him out of the changing room and pointing down the hall, he kept a firm grip on the new boy’s wrist as they began walking to class.

“You should know that Draco is not to be trusted. He’s gotten every new boy in trouble within their first week. Neville, Cedric and Blaise have been here less than a year and Draco has managed to get them all into serious- and I mean very serious trouble. Professor Snape will not tolerate any deviance.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Harry, who was looking down at his wrist and wincing from the vice-grip the tall boy had on him.

Tom ushered him into the last classroom on the left. Harry froze as he looked around the room. It was clearly not any average classroom. Every desk had thick leather straps attached to the backs of the seat. The walls were padded, the floors made of some sort of thick rubber.

“It’s only a precaution, mostly for the west wingers. Getting into trouble does not get you taken out of class here. You’ll be forced to pay attention and promptly punished thereafter. And might I suggest if you do find yourself staring up at the orderlies, do yourself a favour and go limp. There’s no sense fighting them.”

Harry shivered with worry. This was the first real sign he had seen that made him realise he was in a facility for troubled youth and not necessarily another school. “Do people get into trouble often?”

“Here,” Tom winked at him and shoved all of the papers resting on the desk beside him onto the floor. “Sit here by me. And, yes, there’s always someone in trouble. Professor Snape is very strict. I’d suggest not getting on his bad side.”

The rest of the boys entered the classroom and took their seats. Neville gasped, seeing his papers strewn about on the floor and glared at Harry. “What have you done?”

Harry’s hand flew to his mouth. He shoved his thumb between his lips and shook his head vehemently. He rose to gather them. Tom stopped him. “You pick them up or tomorrow’s pipe cleaning will be as unpleasant as last week’s.” His cheery voice had darkened considerably.

Neville quickly apologised as he retrieved his work.

“Good morning, boys. Pay attention now.” A man entered the room and took his seat behind his desk. His lengthy dark hair was tied back. Harry thought he looked quite fetching that way. The man locked onto him and tipped his head. He threw back a weak smile.

“I see we have a new student. You must be Harry. I’m Professor Sirius Black. Just pay attention and don’t cause any outbursts and we’ll get on smashingly. Oh, and take your thumb out of your mouth.” Harry gave him a quick nod and dropped his hands into his lap. Sirius, again, tipped his head at the obedience.

Given instruction to open their history textbooks to page one hundred thirty-four, the lesson began and all voices remained perfectly silent. Harry thoughtfully listened to the soft, sweeping voice of his teacher. He stole several quick glances at him, putting the voice to the face, the face to the large, manly hands, watching the man tilt back in his chair with his legs splayed completely open. It was nearly too much to bear.

As he made a mental list of all the potentially ‘big men’ he had so far seen, a wad of paper smacked Harry upside the head and fell on the desk. He snapped around and caught Draco looking back at him wagging his eyebrows. Harry gaped at him and returned his eyes to his text as he smoothed out the paper. Sure enough, it was a note:

_**Meet me in the changing room after dinner** _

He crumpled it up hoping no one had seen it. He had to admit he was extremely intrigued, even with the warning he’d been given about how dangerous this boy was. Maybe he would go just to see what he wanted. There’s no harm in that. 

* * *

It seemed Harry shared all of his classes with his dormitory mates. There was another group of students who also attended. Tom had told him they were from a dormitory in the west wing. The west wing housed the criminals and troublemakers, whereas the east wing housed all the homosexuals and whatever else was left that had not earned a title.

The final class of the afternoon was purely study-time, where students worked on whatever homework they had yet to complete. Harry sat uneasily in his chair as Tom went over more rules he needed to memorise and follow.

“So what you’re saying is… let me get this right,” he paused for a moment to refrain from laughing out loud, “Everyone in our dormitory is gay and yet there is to be no talking, touching or looking at one another at any time?”

Tom smiled. “That’s exactly right.”

“So, you’re telling me that you enforce these rules? You’ve been looking at me since I got here. And er… you’ve touched me a few times, too.” Harry shrugged at his own candour but he could not help but point out the obvious.

Without reaction, Tom looked him in the eye. “I have not.”

“Yes, you have - on my bum once, even,” said Harry, in a slightly more agitated voice. “I’m not that thick. I can tell when a bloke wants more than conversation from me. It’s why I’m here.”

“I think you’re mistaken, pretty baby.” Tom’s hand found its way onto the boy’s bare knee. Harry gasped and looked down at the long, thin fingers that roamed and caressed his inner thigh. He remained stoic. “Maybe you should just shut-the-fuck-up and enjoy it.”

Feeling his heart begin to thump and blood race to his groin, Harry whipped his head around in worry. Professor Snape was in the room, pacing around the boys to check on their progress. “Stop it,” he pleaded on Tom’s shoulder, suppressing the urge to bite down on the clothed flesh brushing against his lips. “You’re going to get me into trouble.” He pried the boy’s hand away and shifted to the edge of his chair as Snape slipped in behind him.

“How are getting on, Mr Potter?”

“Just fine, thank you,” he said, keeping his nose in his textbook. Snape exchanged a look with Tom and jerked his head down at Harry.

Tom gave him a nod in understanding.

Draco watched the exchange with a groan.

Seamus leaned over to him. “What’s up?”

“They’re going to do Harry today. That fucking bites it. I so wanted to see what I could get out of him before they fucked his head up,” he grumbled, dropping his chin on his fist. “He’s so adorably-hot, too. I’ll bet I could get him to suck me off. Did you see the way he was staring at Riddle’s crotch in chemistry? He’s a complete tart. I want that tart.”

Seamus wagged his eyebrows. “Mhmm, aye, he’s most definitely a tart. Maybe they won’t do him till tonight. Snag him right after class.”

“Yeah, if I can pry him away from Riddle long enough. He hasn’t left his side all day.” Draco glared at the older boy, who, in return, had consistently checked to see whether Draco was watching him with the new boy throughout the afternoon. Tom snaked his tongue out and turned toward Harry, keeping his eyes on Draco while he mimicked licking the side of the boy’s face.

Harry was oblivious to the devilish action. He had grown so nervous after hearing all the rules. He had not dared look up since Snape left his side.

“Oh, that’s just sick,” whispered Seamus. “That bastard gets away with everything. I’m so tired of him and his arse-pounding boyfriend Snape and this bloody-fucking school.”

“I beg your pardon, Mr Finnigan?”

Seamus gasped and the hair on the back of his neck stood straight up. Snape, standing directly behind him, tapped the boy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, sir!” he blurted out in vain.

“Come with me,” said Snape. He turned on his heel and left the room with a very nervous-looking Seamus in tow. Draco sighed.

Snape stopped at the door. “Mr Riddle, your services will be needed directly after class.”

Tom smiled again, although Harry noticed this time that his smile wasn’t as flattering on him as he first thought. It was a twisted, wicked smile, giving Harry a mild crawling sensation over his skin.

The bell rang and everyone stood up to gather their things. “I do believe you have your first therapy session after dinner, Harry. Why don’t you meet me in the dining hall for dinner and I can escort you there myself.”

Harry placed all of his books in his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Sure, thanks.”

Tom gave him one last look-over. He looked pleased. “Not a problem. I’ll see you then,” he said, and left the room.

Harry was the last to leave, uncertain about where he was supposed to go. He stepped into the hall and found it emptying as students disappeared into various rooms without any particular semblance.

“Looking for me?”

“Oh!” he exclaimed, feeling a cool hand clamp down over his shoulder.

Draco pressed his lips against the shell of his ear. “Shh! You don’t want to bring the whole school out here, do you?”

Harry turned to face him. “You scared me.”

“I was hoping I did something else for you, but whatever. C’mon,” he said, curling his fingers around Harry’s wrist and tugging him along. “The changing room’s always deserted after classes.”

* * *

They waited quietly next to the door until the last boy turned off the lights and walked out. The moment they entered the dark locker room, Draco guided Harry to the very back and into a corner.

Draco was tall and pale, with shimmering silver-white hair and the lightest-of-grey eyes. His sharp features stimulated every nerve ending in Harry’s body as he stood over him, pushing him into the corner. He was so completely exotic looking, like an angel standing before him ready to sprout wings.

His back collided with the wall. “I’ve heard all about you. You like to get the new boys into trouble.”

Draco propped himself on the wall, placing a hand on either side of the new boy’s face. He leaned in so that their noses nearly touched. “Is that so? I suppose Riddle told you this, hmm?”

“Yeah, that’s so.”

“He’s a cooze, Harry, a real snake. You’ll find out soon enough,” he whispered against the boy’s lips. “Anyhow, I don’t have therapy until tomorrow. I was hoping to expend a bit of myself the old fashioned way - if you’re up for it.” He pressed his lips against the other’s, trapping him in a small chaste kiss.

Harry leaned into the corner as far as he could manage. “What does that mean? You want me to suck you off?”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“And then you snitch on me, right? Get yourself off!” Harry gave him a hearty shove backward and pushed past him. Draco stood motionless for a second, shocked.

“Wait a minute!” Draco reached out and grabbed the boy and pushed him back into the corner. Harry laboured to get past, but Draco held him easily. Shoving Harry’s hands behind his back, he pinned his wrists with one hand and gripped his chin with the other. “I’ve never gotten anyone into trouble. I told you; Riddle’s a fucking snake. Do not trust him.”

“Funny, that’s exactly what he said about you,” Harry replied coolly. His glasses had slipped down to the tip of his nose though his struggling. Draco plucked them off and stuck them in his breast pocket. He leaned into him fully. This new brat wasn’t going to get off on his first day that easily. “Look, you’re sucking my dick regardless of whether you want to. You might as well just give in. Nobody will you hear you if you scream in here, the room’s soundproof.”

Stunned frozen, Harry found himself beginning to babble and tremble uncontrollably. He could feel Draco’s erection pressing against his abdomen and his hot breath on his cheeks. Harry blanched and whimpered, trembling terribly in his arms. “Are you serious?”

“Had you going, didn’t I? I was just joking,” Draco said with a wink. He shrugged and turned to lean against the wall. “You’re no fun. You act like a bloody virgin. Have you really ever sucked someone off?”

Harry nodded quickly. “Yeah, loads of times.”

Draco snorted. “And have you ever been sucked off?”

“Once,” he said shakily.

Draco looked concerned. “What? Just once? Hey, wait a minute, are you still a virgin?”

Harry winced with embarrassment. “If you mean, er, if I’ve done ‘it’ before, with people, you know, ‘it’, er, then, no, no I haven’t.”

Draco suddenly looked quite troubled. “This changes everything. I’m going to have to take that virginity from you before your therapy session. Trust me, it’s for the best.”

“What—no!” Harry felt the swell of panic rush back through his veins. This was not the way he imagined his first time would be. If anything, he had thought it would be delayed until after he left school. Certainly not on the very first day, not to mention against his will.

“Shush! You do not want Snape to know that you’re a virgin. You’re going to be examined and he’ll know instantly. From then on, when he examines you every week if anything changes you will be in more trouble than you can possibly imagine. And, trust me when I say; if he tells Riddle that you’re a virgin you won’t be for long. And he won’t go easy on you. I will be super gentle and I will only do it if you let me.”

Harry stiffened at the realization of being taken for a ride. He threw up a hardened sneer, clucking his tongue at the larger boy. “He’s going to examine me to see if I’m a virgin- in therapy? You’re so full of it. Get the fuck off me.”

Draco smirked. “The tough-guy act does not fit you, Potter. You feel like you’re having a seizure from trembling so badly. Stick to the ‘pretty baby’ thing you’ve been doing, that’s much more suiting. If you think I’m lying, well, you’ll see.”

Harry was so confused. Certainly Vernon and Petunia had checked out the school thoroughly enough. They would never have spent all that money just to have him tortured. He looked back into Draco’s eyes and something worried him once more. It seemed he had the same nasty habit of biting his nails when he was nervous.

“Snape has his ways of finding out but if you really don’t want me to help you I’ll respect that.” Draco dropped his hands and backed up. Goddamn Tom Riddle had tainted the poor sod with his lies before he could reach him. At least their beds were next to one another. He could comfort him after therapy because he was surely going to need it.

“Sorry, but I’m not getting chucked out of school on my first day.” Harry began to walk away but Draco grabbed him once more, pulling him into his embrace and kissing him solidly on the lips.

Harry felt his flesh goose up on his skin and relented to him the mere instant the other boy’s tongue tapped against his lips. His arms moved on their own, up and around the taller boy’s neck.

They drew closer, welding their forms together as the silver haired boy dipped his tongue into Harry’s mouth. The movement, so soft and wet, began to take its toll on the new boy’s faltering will. There was a velvety swish of warmth probing his mouth, scraping over his submitting tongue that brushed back to meet it.

Harry moaned instinctively, which only seemed to wake him up from his trance. His eyes snapped open and his hands unhinged from Draco’s neck. “Okay, enough,” he said firmly, but dizzied with lust. “You’ve had your fun, Malfoy.”

Draco wiped his mouth off on his sleeve. “Damn, you’re a good kisser, Potter. Just remember who gave you your first here.”

It was an odd statement. It wasn’t as if Harry had never kissed anyone before but Draco seemed to emphasize how important it was. He wanted to be his first, in a school where chastity was considered the only option.

The warning bell sounded. Draco looked up at the clock. “It’s time for dinner, we best hurry.” He grabbed the new boy’s hand and pulled him out of the room. “We’ll talk later, okay? If we’re late, we’ll get into trouble.”

“What doesn’t get you into trouble around here?” Harry jogged along side him, having no difficulty keeping up.

Draco bit down on the last nail his teeth could fit on. “I can’t think of anything. Come on, we’ve got thirty seconds before they close the door.”

Both boys slid into the dining hall the moment the door closed, flushed and ecstatic that they had actually made it - and forgetting that they were holding hands. Several teachers looked up and their mouths dropped open at the sight.

Hoping the headmaster hadn’t noticed and that he might prevent any trouble for them, Sirius cleared his throat in their direction to gain their attention. Draco looked his way. Sirius clasped and unclasped his hands exaggeratedly.

“Oh!” Draco dropped Harry’s hand and mouthed a ‘thank you’ to the kind teacher. Unfortunately, it was too little, too late.

Practically hidden in the corner of the room, sitting quite alone, Tom Riddle was seething at the boys. He noted the heavy flush on Harry’s cheeks and knew that they had kissed. The first kiss; the first step - It would not matter, kissing was nothing. He’d get Harry for the next step – No matter what.


	2. An Interesting Predicament

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's first day is a whirlwind of trouble and romance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder, everyone is overly gorgeous and has a gigantic prick.  
> 

Seeing the two boys run into the dining hall hand in hand, Tom nearly swallowed his own tongue. There was a pang of envy prickling at his heart. He moved his narrow eyes to Snape, whose generally sallow complexion had turned an impressive shade of pink. Snape met his glare and held up a hand, insisting he relax. Pulling a small rectangular device from his pocket he depressed his thumb over the button and whispered a single word. He then placed it back in his pocket. 

“Harry, c’mere, I’ve been waiting on you.” Tom stood up and pointed to the empty chair beside him. He did not give off the impression of being happy. 

Not wanting to upset one of the only two people who had seemingly befriended him, Harry gave Draco a smile and jerked his head in the other boy’s direction. “I’ve got to go, I promised him.” 

Draco sneered disgustedly back at Tom before rolling his eyes at Harry. “Ugh, I warned you, Potter,” he said, and walked off to join some of the other dormitory mates. 

Harry took his seat next to Tom on the opposite end of the room, inwardly floating on cloud-nine. “Draco seems nice,” he chirped. He swirled his juice around in its cup before taking a sip. 

Tom ate his meal in silence. Harry had no room in his stomach for food; it was completely crammed to the brim with dancing butterflies that fluttered around every time he thought back to the fear that had gripped him and the excitement that followed. He could not remember anyone ever doing anything to him with such passion before, not to mention the perfect kiss! He was dizzy and light-headed and nothing seemed to come into focus any longer. 

He took another sip from his cup and bounced in his seat, waiting for dinner to end and therapy to begin. He glanced over to the tables housing the rest of his dormitory mates. Seamus was ogling him from across the room. Harry frowned and set his cup down. Draco and Blaise were arguing about something and Ron, Neville and Cedric were all quietly eating at the table next to them. 

“…have you heard anything I’ve said?” 

Harry looked back at Tom, giving him his attention. “No, sorry, I was thinking about something. What did I miss?” 

Tom tapped his dinner napkin over his pursed lips and smirked wickedly. “I said it’s a shame that Draco will be spending the next hour cooling off after what he did to you.” 

“What do you—” The dining hall door opened and banged against the wall. Two very large men in white uniforms entered the room. “Who’s that?” Harry asked, catching the zealous smirk playing on Tom’s visage. He looked back worriedly in the blond’s direction. 

Both men circled around the large dining table with their hands extended and clawed out. “It’s bath time, boy. Don’t give us any problems.” 

Harry shuddered. 

Draco stood up quickly, knocking his chair backward while Seamus and Blaise pushed off from the table to avoid getting in their way. He backed up; his luminous eyes were darting around the room. They landed on Tom. “Fucking bastard!” he screamed, seconds before the orderlies wrenched his arms behind his back. “You’re so dead!” Tom waved bye-bye. 

As the voices in the room grew to more than the allowed whisper, Snape stood up from his seat. Everyone turned toward him and snapped their mouths shut. “I want silence from all of you,” he ordered. 

Tom lowered his gaze and placed his knife and fork onto his plate. Harry was sucking and chewing on his thumbnail, watching the two men drag Draco out of the room. “That’s Crabbe and Goyle, the resident orderlies. They do not take ‘no’ for an answer.” 

Harry pulled his thumb out of his mouth long enough to speak. “Where are they taking him?” 

“It sounds like the Bath, his usual resting spot. He’ll have to spend some time freezing his arse off in a bathtub full of ice,” Tom said through a strong grin. He reached out and righted the boy’s head so it was facing his plate. “You haven’t eaten a thing. I suggest you do so.” 

Harry’s butterflies had turned into mush. “Not really hungry.” 

Tom threw his napkin on his plate and stood up. “You’re too skinny.” 

“I’ll eat tomorrow,” mumbled Harry. 

“Good, I’m holding you to that. C’mon then, let’s head over to Snape’s office.” 

As Harry stood up in front of him, Tom inhaled the strawberry scent of his tussled hair. He gave the new boy a shove, directing him out of the room. 

* * *

Sitting in front of a very large oak desk, Harry licked his lips in nervousness. The air was stale and thick, the room was unfocused. It was seemingly brimming with untold tales of horror that had soaked into the ugly vomit-green walls. He kept his head down, feeling very small at the moment. He rubbed his scar for comfort. 

Tom eased into the room and took the stuffed chair next to the boy. “Sorry I’m late, sir,” he said, and patted Harry’s hand. “I had to go back and find something.” 

Professor Snape had his attention centred on the bulky manila file with Harry’s name stamped on the front. “Interesting,” he said without looking up, “Along with several detentions for getting caught letting other boys play with you, you’ve been expelled from Smeltings for- oh dear, that was you and their disgusting Headmaster having a go in his office, hmm? I heard all about that. My goodness, Harry, you have been a very active little boy.” 

“It seems his misbehavior is not limited to Smeltings, sir,” Tom added. “I think – and it is clearly a personal observation – but perhaps Harry should begin taking the medication I recommended. He’s far too active for his own good.” 

Harry looked back at other boy in confusion. “What medication? What are you talking about— I thought you were my friend.” His mouth opened and closed wordlessly after that. Tom had turned on him so quickly after putting a genuine trust in him. He felt a sudden urge to run, to push off from the chair and run as fast as he could. 

“Your uncle had mentioned you have a tendency to lose your glasses when you’re doing indecent things. So, tell me,” Snape pressed his fingertips together as he stared the boy down. Harry gasped and his hand flew up to his face; as badly as he needed them to see, he hadn’t even realised they were missing. “They were noticeably absent when you entered the dining hall. Where do you think you misplaced them?” 

“I haven’t done anything!” he shouted. “I don’t know. I left them in my bag, I think. I didn’t do anything wrong!” 

Tom reached into his pocket and pulled something out. Harry watched him out of the corner of his eye, praying it wasn’t what he thought it was. “I found them in the strangest place.” Harry’s glasses skidded across the desk, stopping at Snape’s elbow. 

“And where was that?” asked Snape, looking livid. 

Riddle's handsome visage darkened as he turned his longing gaze away from Harry to address the headmaster. A wicked smile cracked any softness he had the moment before. “Draco Malfoy’s uniform pocket.” 

Harry’s thumb buried itself in his mouth. 

Snape dropped his arms on the desk and leaned in closer to the cowering boy. His beady eyes rose and fell, his nose crinkled and his lips arced downward in a frown. “Your clothing is dishevelled and there is a distinct pink blotching around your lips,” he said. He turned to Tom. “And you found his glasses in Mr Malfoy’s possession?” 

“I’m afraid so. I had warned him about that troublemaker, sir.” 

Harry struggled for breath behind his hand. Their voices were terribly cold as they spoke about him. He would just have to call his Uncle Vernon and tell him what a mistake he had made. He would give up all sexual contact for the next year if he could slither out of this horrible predicament. 

“Your poor aunt and uncle will be devastated to hear of this – and on your first day, son.” Snape stood from his chair and crossed around the desk. “Get up, go through that door over there and strip down. I’ll have to examine you.” 

“What?” Harry crouched down further into his chair. He had been so unbelievably naive as he always had been at these sorts of times. It was obvious now; Draco had been telling him the truth about everything: Riddle, the examinations and perhaps his virginity. He willed his legs to move. He didn’t want to cause any more problems by sitting frozen in place while his headmaster loomed over him - ordering him to get naked. His heart was all but trapped behind his Adam’s apple, thumping and constricting the passage to breathe. 

Tom’s hands rested on his shoulders at some point during his panic attack. “Why don’t you give him something to help him relax, Professor Snape? It is his first day, after all.” 

Snape forced a weak smile and turned around to open the cupboard on the back wall. 

The smaller boy looked anxiously up at Tom in a silent plea for help. Instead, Tom’s right hand slipped from his shoulder and clamped around him, drawing him close. He pressed his lips to his ear and whispered, “Stay very calm and I’ll get you out of this.” 

“Here we are,” Snape said, making his way back to the two boys. 

Harry tensed up, gripping the arms of the chair while Snape unbuttoned the cuff of his shirt. “Make a fist for me,” he murmured, slapping the skin of his inner elbow with his fingers. “Perfect. Now bite your tongue, this will sting.” He inserted the needle and depressed the plunger.

Harry felt its immediate effects. He slumped over in the chair boneless, unable to think straight. Tom lifted him up behind the neck and knees and carried him off into the examination room. 

* * *

Harry grunted his protests, feeling Snape and Riddle removing his clothes. “Remember what I said,” Tom reminded him softly. Slowly, he coaxed Harry’s arm up over his head and buckled his wrist into a tanned strip of leather. He brought his other arm up, all the while whispering sweet words of encouragement and tousling his hair. “You’re going to be fine. All the boys go through an examination every week.” 

Harry’s mind swirled in confusion. He lifted his head to watch the headmaster fiddle around with a leather strap he’d attached to his right ankle. Snape met his eyes. He was far too creepy to look at. He dropped his head back down to catch his breath. 

“Bend your leg for me,” he said sharply. Harry locked his knees. Snape grabbed his ankle and tried to force it up. “Bend your goddamn leg, boy. Riddle, over here now.” 

Snapping from his reverie after catching a glimpse of the prettiest cock he had ever been graced with; Tom bit his tongue and walked around the table. “Might I make a small suggestion,” he said to Snape, while his eyes worked over Harry’s paling skin. “It seems this boy does not respond well – wait, I have it here in my notes – does not respond favourably to threatening orders or pain. He gets very nervous and rebellious. He has an anxiety problem, sir.” He held up his notebook and pointed to a scratchy passage. 

With a sigh, Snape looked up at him from his stool. “And what would you suggest?” 

“You could try being softer, for starters.” Tom gently grasped Harry’s ankle and leaned inward. Slowly, he slid the binding into place. He buckled the end to his ankle, securing it to the table. “You see? He responds to kindness. Now I’ll do the other.” 

Severus waited for Tom to get the boy’s other leg bent into position. Once complete, he placed his hands on each of Harry’s knees, parting them easily. “You’re a submissive little minx, aren’t you?” 

Harry gave him a quick nod as he twisted his hips, testing the awkward bindings holding him against the table. “Yes, sir. I’m so sorry, sir,” he said in a panicky mumble. 

Tom was at his side him once more, whispering into his ear. “How are you doing?” 

“I feel sleepy.” The snap of a latex glove hammered into Harry’s ears, waking him back up. 

Snape squeezed out a large amount of lubricant into his hand and massaged it around with his thumb to evenly spread it over his index and middle fingers. “Just relax, Potter.” 

Tom cradled the boy’s head in his hands, but his eyes were on his prick. “I’ll be right here. You have nothing to worry over. This may be a bit uncomfortable but you’ll get used to it.” 

Harry gave him a shaky nod, thankful he had stayed in the room to help him through it. 

* * *

Draco took several slow, calculated steps as he crept down the passage towards the dorms. He braced himself with a hand on the wall, his teeth clattered uncontrollably as he waited patiently for his legs to thaw out. Ron, Neville, Blaise and Cedric looked up from their card game as he drudged past the common room. All four shared a dodgy gaze before returning their eyes to their cards. “No, please, don’t get up. I can do this on my own,” he drawled, glaring back at them as he came to a stumbling halt. “Where’s Seamus?” 

“Go fuck your mother, Draco,” Ron spat without bothering to look at him. Blaise snorted and smirked back at the tall blond. 

“He’s in the dorms waiting on you,” injected Neville. Cedric slapped his knee. “Ouch-what?” 

“Don’t talk to the dirty wanker,” he said under his breath. 

Draco looked over each boy in awe. “What’s the problem? Why are you all so icy?” 

Blaise raised an eyebrow at him. “Speaking of icy, you should thaw your hair out before walking by my bed. Don’t want to have any part of you touching my sheets ever again.” 

“Was it Riddle? What did he tell you?” he demanded, feeling his face burning crimson. 

“Oh fuck him and fuck you. We know what you’re doing to the new boy – and it’s not right,” hissed Ron. 

“Oh for Christ’s sake.” Draco’s expression grew cold, mimicking the look the four boys were giving him. “Is that what this is about? Look, nobody is getting hurt, all right? We’re just having a bit of fun before he turns into a drugged up, zombie-prude like the rest of you.” 

Ron leaned into Blaise’s side and nuzzled his throat. “You don’t know shite, Malfoy. You think you’re the only one still having fun? We just know how to keep it in check.” Blaise gripped his chin, grinned evilly and plunged his tongue into Ron’s mouth. 

Draco paled. “So that’s how it is, eh? You’re gonna try and turn Harry on us before I’ve gotten a piece of his arse? Is that right?” 

Blaise smacked his lips several times hungrily. “Spot on, Malfoy.” 

Neville looked down at his cards. “It shouldn’t be like this. We shouldn’t be fighting.” 

“Oh, shut up, Neville!” 

“This is war.” 

Draco looked around the common room at all the other residents of the east wing. “Where is Tom anyway?” 

Everyone shrugged. 

“Get the hell out my way, poufs!” Zacharias Smith was gaping at his watch as he shoved past the card table and fled the common room. 

Draco watched him stomp down the hall and disappear around the corner before looking back. “Well anyway,” he said, seemingly distracted, “Just stay away from the new boy, he’s mine.” 

“Right, we’ll see about that,” Ron shot back, watching Draco stalk away. 

* * *

Snape was primed and ready. He added more lubricant and snapped the glove a few times more for added drama. “Here we go, relax now.” He parted the boy’s thighs farther apart and reached down to insert- 

There was a sudden rap on the door from the office. “Professor Snape, there’s trouble, sir!” 

Everyone craned their necks to face it. Snape released a great sigh. “I am in a therapy session, can’t this wait?” 

Harry looked up at the other boy looming over him, seeing him mouth the words “You owe me.” 

“There’s a west winger on a ledge on the third floor, sir. Smith, I believe, says he’s going to jump.” 

Tom patted Harry’s cheek as he stepped away from him and curled around his leg to see Snape. “I can finish this for you. I believe I’m ready, sir.” 

Snape tossed his glove into the waste bin and rose up from the stool. “You would do that? That would be wonderful, Tom, thank you. I will try my best to return as soon as possible.” 

“Yes, sir, don’t you worry. I’ll take very good care of him; I know exactly what to do.” His eyes followed the older man who rushed his apologies to the boy on the table before dashing out of the office. With a soft step toward the door, Tom locked the sliding bolt over into place. ” 

Harry looked between him and the door with worry. “You’re no’ gonna hurt me, are ya?” 

Tom sauntered over and leaned in closely. His breath was hot on Harry’s cheek. “No.” Their lips met, moist and parted. He probed his mouth with his tongue while he unbuckled the straps on his wrists. Harry relented, melting under him. The older boy smiled. “I have a sneaking suspicion about you and the state of your sexual experience. I don’t want Snape to find out.” Unbuckling the rest, he helped the boy stand on wobbly legs. 

Harry pulled his clothes on, leaning against the table. “Thanks.” 

“You’ll have to rectify that before next week. I can’t hold him off forever.” He took the boy by the arm for added support. The drugs running through his veins would take some time to wear off. “Preferably with someone you can trust.” 

“And tha’ would be ya, raut?” Harry slurred, glowering. “Wha bout th’ glasses?” 

Tom snorted. “Is Snape’s hand up your arse right now? That was for Draco.” Harry shook his head and nearly tripped over himself. Tom caught him. “You okay to get back to the dorms?” He nibbled on his lip. “I really should wait here for the Headmaster to return. 

“I be fine,” he replied, tipping his chin up for a good-night kiss. 

Taking him in his arms, bending him just so, they pressed their lips together once more. 

* * *

Dragging his body along the corridors, Harry turned the corner and gasped. “Heyyy,” he mumbled, seeing Draco and Seamus conversing together by their dormitory entrance. 

Seamus gave Draco a ‘look’ as they walked toward the stumbling boy. Each took an arm and half-dragged him into their room. They eased him onto his bed and the blond began to undress him. “Go get his jammies,” he said through his work; untying his shoes, slipping his socks off. He brushed the damp hair from his eyes and leaned in, smiling. “How you feeling? Did Snape do a number on you?” 

Harry lifted his hips to allow Draco to drag his knee pants off. “Nah, he had ta go. Some boy wus gonna jump offa ledge.” 

Draco growled low in his throat. “Let me venture a guess; Zach Smith?” 

“I dunno, maybe.” 

Seamus tossed his dorm mate a pair of flannel pyjama pants. “Want some privacy, you two?” He made a kissing-face at them until Draco shooed him out. He shrugged and grabbed a book from his bedside table. “Alright, I’ll stand guard out here.” 

Deciding that putting Harry’s pyjamas on him was a silly idea, Draco snuggled down next to the new boy on his bed and tossed the flannel leggings on the floor. “I see they gave yea the cocktail of fuck-you-up. I hate it, refuse it all the time. Hey, look at me,” he cupped Harry’s face as he spoke, turning his head to the side to face him. “Are you okay? What did he do to you?” His voice was deep and husky, his eyes searching. 

“Who?” Harry asked, confused. 

“Riddle. How far did he get once Snape left? Did he take your virginity?” 

Harry frowned. “Thatsnot ya business.” 

“Oh no?” Draco dropped the niceties and gripped him by the chin. “He got me put on ice. I want to get him back. I need leverage.” 

Harry’s baby face paled. No one was who they pretended to be in this place. Everyone was nasty. He pulled himself up, wondering if there was a pay phone or something he could use to call his uncle. “I needta go hhhome.” 

“Oh, c’mon,” Draco frowned. He climbed on top of him and pressed his torso down across the sad boy’s to hold him down. “I’m not trying to scare you; I’m just really bitter right now.” 

Harry pushed up with his elbows and dug his heels into the mattress to gain a bit of leverage. “Nope, goin’ home.” 

Draco shoved him back down, pulled himself up to straddle him and pinned Harry’s hands under his knees. “Stop struggling, you’re not getting out of this. Tell me what Riddle did to you this instant.” 

“Alright,” admitted Harry. “Nothin’ happened.” 

He blinked. “Really? I’m shocked. He’s always such a pig.” 

Harry grunted while he wrenched back in attempt to dislodge his hands. “Need ta go home now, okay?” He was getting angry. The drugs were wearing off. 

“Why are you so upset? I’m here, I’ll protect you.” He kissed the tip of his nose. 

“You’re not Dudley. He always ttakes care of these things,” mumbled Harry. “I’m not used ta being on my own.” 

Draco ran his tongue - long and slow - over Harry’s lips. “Mmm, Dudley. Nice name. Is that your boyfriend?” 

Harry nipped at his tongue, trying to catch it between his teeth. “No, he’s ma cousin. He’s Smeltings’s boxing champ n’ beats up all th’ boys who try ta touch me.” 

“Ooh, so this happens to you often? Do loads of boys try and touch you, Harry?” Draco felt his cock twitch – hard. Slowly, he adjusted himself upward and slid his hips down to meet Harry’s. “Tell me all about it. Does Dudley ever take advantage of his pretty little cousin?” 

“No, that’s disgusting.” Harry looked aggravated. He put his hands on Draco’s shoulders and shoved upward. “Off.” 

Draco snagged his wrists and pinned them over his head. He leaned in close, touching the tip of his nose to Harry’s. His pelvis jutted over his hips, using them as friction to undress himself. “How many boys have done this to you?” He wiggled his pyjamas down to his knees and kicked them off. 

Harry moaned. It was happening again. His pretty prick was already growing hard against the lovely friction wriggling around all over it. It was just too easy to lose his control through the hormonal endeavour gyrating against him. “Uh, loads. I have a, a really hard time, oh fuck, Draco, saying no to ah, to being naughty.” 

Slipping his hand inside his waistband, Draco began to stroke himself harder. Harry looked down between them and gasped. It was huge. He stared at it, marvelling at the beautiful outline of his shaft through his silky knickers. He looked back to the blond, owl-eyed. “That all you?” 

“Bigger than Riddle,” he added, wagging his eyebrows. Getting on his knees, he inched forward with it pulsing in his hand. “Would you like to see it up close?” 

Harry’s head instinctively moved up and down. “No, I don’t think I should.” 

“Of course not.” Draco freed his constricted erection and let it bob in front of Harry’s lips. “I would never take advantage of your love for sucking cock. Admit it; you do like sucking a big cock now and then, don’t you?” 

Harry leaned up on his elbows again, completely hypnotised. “I do admit I enjoy a great. Big. Cock. From time to time.” He licked his lips before pressing them against the engorged member bobbing around in front of him. Draco took hold of it at the root, steadying it. A soft humming sound and a tiny kiss placed on his prick caused the blond to involuntarily shiver. Harry was teasing the head so beautifully and with each kiss against the flesh his lips parted a bit more. His dark lashes fanned out over his cheeks. His mouth opened and a bright pink tongue slipped past them, pressuring over the slit. 

“Oh God, that’s so hot,” Draco moaned. He sunk his right hand into Harry’s tussled hair and softly rolled his hips toward him. “We don’t have much time; the bell will ring any minute.” 

Harry engulfed him, filling his mouth with the most delicious phallus ever to slide over his tongue. “Mmrrm mrrr,” he groaned, and reached up to push Draco’s hand flat against the back of his head. 

“Er, you want me to fuck your mouth?” he asked half-heartedly, unsure of what the boy was suggestion. 

Harry looked up at him with bright, mirthful eyes. “Mhmm, mmk mm.” 

“Yeah? Okay, let me know if I should stop.” Draco began moving, thrusting himself deeper into Harry’s throat. He gripped a handful of hair, forcing him to meet each movement: wrenching his head back and forth against the slick pressure of his lips and tongue, hearing him groan and hum in conscious elation. It took no time to build up the release he so desperately needed. With breathless urgent mewls, the blond felt the familiar and wondrous tug of his scrotum. He pulled his cock free from Harry’s mouth and clamped his fist over it. 

“All over me-On my face,” Harry ordered. 

Draco hissed between his teeth as his release crested, spilling his scorching honey over the new boy’s awaiting and open mouth. Harry squeezed his eyes shut and proffered out his tongue, catching whatever he could get. 

“They’re coming!” shouted Seamus. 

“Oh fuck!” Draco leaned in quickly, lapping his hot juices off of the pretty boy’s cheeks. With one last lick across his lips, he tossed the boy his pyjama bottoms and scrambled onto his own bed. Both boys yanked their duvets up to their chins as the shadows of the other boys grew into the room. 

Ron passed between their beds, his narrowed eyes burning holes through Draco’s duvet. Seamus and Blaise dropped down across from them. Neville and Cedric moved to the end of the room. The bell began to ring, giving the wing their thirty-second warning to be in your dorm and ready for bed. 

Tom walked in slowly, scanning over everyone. He was dressed in a set of impeccably neat pyjamas made of deep green satin. He flopped down on his bed and rolled onto his side to face Harry. “You all right?” he whispered, suppressing a foolish grin. 

“Yeah, fine. Night,” Harry said back, then rolled away from him to look at Draco. “You too, night.” 

Draco kissed the tips of his fingers, flattened his palm and blew the imaginary kiss back to Harry. “Good night,” he said, and closed his eyes, his mind set on the new boy’s lovely mouth.


	3. The Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life at St Brutus's is heating up. Harry is pulled in every direction by his suitors until someone takes him under his wing to protect him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I failed at any Britishisms, I apologize. I haven't studied over them in many years and when I opened up the texts of these chapters in my new word document a lot were underlined red and I absently changed quite a few of them before I realized what I had done.

With a light grip on the nape of his neck, Draco Malfoy eased his tongue back into Harry Potter’s mouth. His free hand held him firm at the small of his back, his splayed fingers slid evenly up and down over the curve of his sweat-glazed bottom.

Harry sat straight-backed with his arms curled around Draco’s shoulders, his tongue battling for dominance. His toes barely scraped the floor behind the chair as he sat straddled in over Draco’s lap, with their groins uncomfortably pinned between their bellies.

Draco tipped his head back for oxygen; his parted lips trembled from the tickle of Harry’s teeth grazing along his throat. “God, let me fuck you,” he whispered urgently into the dark classroom. The black haired boy’s tongue ran up and down over his Adam’s apple, giving him the sense that he might be saying ‘yes’.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he breathed against his throat, “if you want.”

Wiggling around in Professor Black’s chair to detach his sweaty cheeks from the upholstery, Draco slid closer to the front and brought Harry over his erection. He wet his fingers in his mouth and spread the smaller boy open with his thighs. “You’re sure?” he whispered, rubbing his warm saliva around his backside.

Harry leaned into him, burying his face in the crook of Draco’s shoulder. He tensed and groaned, barely able to withstand the awkward discomfort and jolts of sharp pain from Draco’s finger prodding around his entrance. “Ow, it hurts. Stop, stop,” he whimpered.

“Give me a moment, need more spit.” Draco slathered his fingers up and reached down, making Harry buck up once more from the intrusion. He wrapped his arm around him, steadying him as he found his mark. “Okay, now fully relax, gonna loosen you up.”

“I can’t,” grunted Harry. He gasped and hissed again and again at the slightest touches, driving Draco slightly mad with agitation.

With a stinging *thwack*, Draco slapped his bum in a huff. “I know you let Riddle shove his fingers up your arse; he won’t stop bragging about it. Now sit and relax or you’re going to get a another smack.”

“Just once.” Harry’s face burned pink in frustration. This was not the first or even second time this week he had agreed to let someone take his virginity and backed out. It was almost becoming a sport to Draco and Tom. Harry wanted to get it over and done with and be rid of it to end this strange new air the two boys had taken with him. “It hurt then, too and he was really gentle. I’m done with this. Let go, I’m leaving.”

“What- why? C’mon, Potter, stop. Stay with me,” he whimpered. He reached up, taking Harry’s face in his hands. “I’m sorry, I know you’re nervous. I can be a real insensitive bugger sometimes but I’m trying to work on it.”

Harry pursed his lips tightly for a moment. He was thoroughly exhausted inside. This competition between Draco and Tom had seemingly no bounds when it came to spending any waking moment alone with him. If he was asleep he was yanked from bed and dragged down the halls and thrust into a broom cupboard to accomplish whatever task they wanted to complete. Meal time was something he could but dream about; he hadn’t eaten more than once a day since his arrival. And somehow he hadn’t gotten into any trouble over it.

And then the impending weekly therapy session would take place directly after classes the next day. It sat inside of him like a smouldering log. He was not positive if he would have anything left to milk out, as he was told would happen. Snape would know how naughty he was and surely punish him.

“…Unless you like spankings. Do you, baby?” Draco dragged his cool fingers around over his bottom; pinching, teasing, giving it another slap.

Harry arched forward with a hiss. “No, I don’t like pain.” He backed off, intending on leaving.

Draco captured his neck and lips and plunged his tongue into his mouth, pillaging it with all of the passion he had.

Harry moved right back into his embrace, mesmerised by his soft velvety sweeping.

“Okay, no spankings – for now.” He brushed the sweaty hair back from his eyes as he dipped his tongue in and out of his mouth. “What do you want?”

Harry nibbled his bottom lip, thinking. “Mmm, make me come. I’m fucking dying to come.” He grabbed the boy’s hand, coaxing it between his thighs. He pulled his hips, drawing on the instant sensation.

“God, you’re so stiff for me, feels so perfect in my hand. How did you get such a lovely cock?”

“Fuck that’s good,” Harry moaned. “But needs… wet, get it wet for me.” He rested his elbows on the arms of the chair, thrusting his pelvis up toward Draco’s face.

“Maybe Professor Black has something.” He gripped the other boy around his waist for leverage. They leaned over the desk to rifle through the drawers. Without being able to see in the dark, they groped blindly through the first and second, finding nothing more than standard classroom materials. The third, however, held something much different. Various items of question lie under the boys’ fingers.

“What’s this?” Harry whispered, feeling the distinct outline of a rubber phallus under his palm. He pulled it out of the drawer and held it up to his face and gasped. “Why is this-er, what is this?

“Oh! Oh god!” Draco reached up and snagged it in awe. “It’s a- We’re keeping this and whatever else is in there.”

The door to the classroom opened, unheard by either boy in their excitement. It closed silently.

“There’re loads of things in here,” remarked Harry. “Ah, this is good.” He held a bottle of gel in front of him and wiggled it about until the other boy took hold of it.

Draco swivelled the chair around for better access to the middle drawer. “What do we have here?” he said gleefully, at first, until his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room.

Harry let out a sigh and grabbed the bottle back from the other boy. “Who cares about the sodding drawer? Make me come already!”

Draco continued rummaging through shallow innards. “He’s got handcuffs, whips, spiky things. He’s never used any of these on me, how rude. Oh, what’s this? Photos?”

“I’ll just do it myself,” grumbled Harry, ignoring the pang of jealousy in his throat. He pressed his now wet cock into Draco’s belly and leaned as close to him as possible so his toes touched the floor for leverage.

Draco hadn’t noticed him humping his abdomen; he was a bit more interested in the pictures in his hands.

Staring at the glossy paper nearly touching his nose, the images came into better focus. He gasped as he flipped through them. “Oh my. This is Cedric. And this is Tom. And Tom and me. And me, more of me, me in the shower. I had no idea he was photographer.” There was another photo on the bottom of the stack, one that gave him a sudden sense of deja vu. “Uh oh, he’s on to us about using his room. We should go before we get chucked into the Bath again.”

Clicking his tongue, Harry hopped down to gather his clothes. Without his glasses on, he was practically blind. “I can’t find anything. Turn the lights on for a second.”

The lights illuminated overhead and Harry smiled, spotting his knickers over behind the chair. “Thank you.”

Draco gulped.

“Good evening, boys. What a stroke of luck finding you two here fucking like rabbits on my chair.” Sirius Black reached behind his back and locked the door. A wicked look of victory flashed with his grin.

Still very undressed, Harry jammed his thumb into his mouth and hid behind the tall blond. Draco smirked and batted his lashes at the teacher. “Professor Black. What a big surprise.”

The man moved in with a swagger in his steps. “My star pupil. You’re looking lovely this evening.”

Draco blushed and wagged his finger at him. “Did you set this up?”

Sirius looked over his shoulder at the boy hiding behind him. “Don’t get shy on me now, you were doing such a wonderful job of keeping me entertained.” His distended flesh stretched the front of his trousers, giving him a slight limp as he closed the gap between them.

Harry pulled his thumb out. “I’m not shy.” He stuck it back in.

“He’s a little jealous of you, that’s all”

“No I’ naw,” he said, thumb still in his mouth.

“Oh, naive, sweet Harry.” Black tittered under his hand. “Every teacher here has at least one favorite. It just so happens that this is one of mine. Someone will choose you soon enough, you’re far too beautiful to go unnoticed. They will lavish you with everything: attention, clothing, jewelry, sex…” His eyes scanned over his boy. “But enough talk. Draco, be a doll and get that pair of handcuffs out of my drawer. It looks like the little jealous bunny here is having difficulty keeping his fingers out of his mouth again.”

Turning toward the desk, Draco opened the middle drawer. He scanned over the instruments stowed inside. He fumbled for one of the three pairs of glinting handcuffs and slammed it closed. “These?”

“Cuff him up, good and tight behind his back,” ordered Black, standing closer than before. “There’s only one thing in this room I want sucked tonight.”

Harry was eased over the desk with soft fingers. Draco drew his arms up behind him, placing the cuffs snuggly around his wrists. The boy was so beautifully obedient, surrendering without a word. He purred under the blond’s hand while arching to him for closer contact.

Draco stepped back, allowing Black to view the display. “Does this please you, Professor?”

Sirius cupped his face in his hands. “It does.” He turned to look at the boy over the desk, making certain he was securely restrained before returning his attention to his special boy. “Your turn,” he said and opened the drawer, producing another pair of handcuffs. The blond placed his arms behind his back. He felt the cold metal encase his wrists with a snap.

The Professor stood between them with a hand on each of their shoulders. “Well,” he said, impressed with their beauty, “on your knees, boys.” Draco dropped down next to the chair as Harry did. Sirius sat back and threaded his fingers through their hair, pulling them closer to him. “So attentive,” his husky voice breathed. “We’ll start slow. Show me how you two kiss. Harry, swallow Draco’s tongue like a good lad.”

Harry leaned over the man’s lap. Sirius cupped the smaller boy’s neck, supporting him against the powerful intrusion of his dorm mate’s mouth. With his free hand, he unzipped his trousers and set himself free. “Oh, that’s nice, real nice. Very pretty,” he moaned out through his teeth.

“You liked it?” Harry smiled up at Black sweetly, pleased with himself.

“I did. Now why don’t you both lean in and take care of this painful problem I’ve been inflicted with. One on my balls, the other on my prick; switch it up. I want to see a lot of tongue and kissing and getting me really wet. Am I to be understood?” Black raised his arms, fastening his fingers behind his head.

Draco moved firstly, running the rough of his tongue along the inflexible shaft. Harry lowered his gaze toward the beautifully shorn set of testicles bouncing around between the man’s thighs and dove in to suck up one of the weighted orbs into his mouth.

“Ooooh God,” breathed Black. He closed his eyes for a moment, adjusting to the warmth of their sodden mouths toying with him. “I must say I believe you are better at this than Cedric and Neville. I didn’t think they’d be topped.”

Harry hummed in his throat as his tongue collided with Draco’s along the base of Black’s cock. Slowly, he curved it around it, meeting the moist tip of the blonde’s as they swept up the shaft together in thick strokes.

Sirius melted, watching their angelic faces struggle to touch each other around his erection. He sunk his hands back in their hair, guiding Draco over the head, Harry back down on the shaft. “You work well together, but I’m going to come now and I need you to really focus on your roles.”

They nodded under his hands and closed their eyes. “That’s good, Draco, so lovely. Suck it real good, swallow it wholly. And you, Harry, keep that tongue stiff. Good lad.” And with a groan from deep in his throat, Professor Black exploded, filling Draco’s sweet mouth with his hot seed. Harry moved up, catching any escaping droplets around his lips with his tongue, jarring and prolonging the powerful orgasm to the fiery depths of heavenly culmination.

Both boys sat back on their heels, breathing heavily through their swollen lips. “Yes, yes,” whinged Black, “I think you’ll do splendidly in my class, Potter.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Black groped through the drawer for the keys to the handcuffs and bent Harry forward into his lap to release him. He sat back and rubbed his wrists, waiting on the word from the teacher to gather his clothing.

“Get dressed,” he said sternly, his eyes fixed on Draco’s lithe, nude form.

Without hesitation, he gathered up his belongings and yanked his pyjamas up over his hips. “What about Draco?” he said, noticing he had made no attempt to unshackle his friend.

Sirius smiled and licked his lips thoughtfully. “He’ll be fine, run along now. Mr. Malfoy and I have some finishing up to do.”

Draco smiled at him and jerked his head at the door. “Go to bed.”

But Harry wasn’t fine with it. He hesitated, the words ‘let him go’ stuck on his tongue. Black looked up from his enchanted leering to frown.

Shocked at his will, the blond set his jaw. “I said bed!”

“Fine!”

Turning back to Black as Harry skulked from the classroom, he shrugged. “He’s still new, he’ll learn.”

Professor Black returned the smile. “I know. I see great promise in that boy.”

* * *

Looking down a dim, empty corridor did not make it any less frightening to Harry. At any moment someone might come along and see that he hadn’t minded the rules and stayed in bed until the bell rang. He padded cautiously across the cold wooden floorboards, jigging several coins in a shaky hand. The pay telephones were so far away, across the hall past several open doors. He had to risk it. He needed to go home.

He looked carefully into each room as he passed. Luck was with him; they were all empty. Reaching the first phone, he plunked all the coins into the slot and dialled his home number as fast as he could. They would be up by now, they all rose so early during weekdays. “Oh, come on, come on, answer someone…”

Tom had left over an hour ago to retrieve Draco after Harry told him what had happened but neither boy had returned. The school was not what his aunt and uncle had thought it was. He was so jealous of other people playing around with what he wanted; now he just wanted to go home.

His eyes lit up and his voice shot up several octaves at the sound of his aunt’s ‘Hullo’. “Aunt Petunia! It’s me, Harry. Yes, I know, but-Of course I’ve gotten permission to call, they- yes, but I think there’s been a mistake. Can I talk to Uncle Vernon, please? I know he’s about to leave for work, but this is- No, I’m not crying, unless it’ll help. I know I’ve only been here for two weeks- I did give it a chance. Can I come home?”

He waited nearly a minute after his aunt had set the phone down and hurried off to find her husband. His eyes travelled down each side of the hall as he stood with the receiver of the phone in his hand. The sounds of someone lifting up on the other side tickled his ear. “Oh, Dudley, hi- no, it’s worse! You wouldn’t believe- Everyone here is nasty- Er, yeah, about six times- Both- No, a few different— yes, with a- Well, you weren’t here! How am I supposed to- No, don’t tell him, I promised him I wouldn’t- Just ask him if I can come home.”

Vernon eventually grabbed the receiver. Harry could hear his deep, heavy breaths snorting through the phone line and into his ear. “Can I please come home? Did you really sign a form saying they could- Yes! They’re going to tie me up again to that table, but listen-—hullo?!” The phone line went dead. Harry uncurled and turned around, wondering whether Vernon had hung up on him, or…

“Mr Potter, I’m disappointed in you.”

Harry whirled around to face the Headmaster, who was tapping his foot in agitation. He cringed. “Er, sorry sir.”

Snape pointed to his office door. “In.”

* * *

The inevitable call had come and Snape was ready for it.”Yes, ah, good morning, Mr. Dursley,” he said cheerfully, seeing Harry perk up from hearing the name. “Oh no, he’s quite fine. Yes, I do understand he’s a shy, sensitive boy. That was a necessary physical examination and- We instill the virtues of chastity. Yes; I’ve gotten the gist of that. A bit too dramatic, very emotional. It’s no problem, honestly. I’ve had far worse here. He’s a delightful boy and already quite popular with his dormitory mates. Tell your wife to stop fretting, Harry will be fine. I’ll have him call you next week. Oh, no, thank you, Mr. Dursley. Good bye.”

He set the receiver down on its cradle and pressed his hands together, watching Harry slump back in his chair. “Such a shame you’ve gone and frightened your poor relatives. They are so worried about their promiscuous little nephew.” He leaned on the desk, shaking his head. “I won’t be punishing you over this. I know you’re homesick and those other boys can make it seem a little scarier than it is here. You’re still new, haven’t been here a full two weeks yet.”

“I just want to go back to Smeltings or something,” Harry sobbed. “I don’t belong here.”

“Oh, but you do, you little vixen.” Snape looked at him sternly. “You can’t keep your legs together. The sin you bear is unclean, unhealthy and unnatural. It is not impossible to stay chaste; I, myself am a perfect example of this.” His words were pure of heart but his hand was clawed, quivering to touch something. The corner of his mouth twitched while his eyes roamed over the boy in front of him. Somehow, he had managed to look slightly creepier than when they’d first met.

Harry swallowed hard. It was a somewhat unnerving. “I’m sorry I panicked, Professor. I won’t do it again,” he said at last, fighting the urge to jam his thumb in his mouth. “I’ll try to concentrate on my studies more.”

Snape nodded thoughtfully. “Might I make a suggestion?”

“Yeah?”

“I would like it very much if you started conversing with Ronald and Neville during your class and meal times, instead of those other two. They are the epitome of chastity here. They are fine young boys who understand the importance of not getting into trouble.”

Harry thought that might be a good idea. As much as he enjoyed the company of Draco and even Tom, running around with the both boys had been causing him a great many problems. If he could not leave this school, he would simply have to adapt. “Okay, Ill’ do that, Professor.”

“Do you need me to escort you back to the dorm?”

Harry stood up. “I’m good.”

Severus beamed a genuine smile. “Excellent. Run along.”

* * *

Harry sat alone, moping in the changing room in wait for the bell to start the day. Draco and Tom were fast asleep in their beds, along with the rest of the students residing there.

“How you doing?” He looked up. Ron was in the doorway.

“I’m okay,” he said in a sad voice, “just a little homesick. I don’t like Riddle or Malfoy. I don’t have any friends here.”

Ron sat beside him and gave him a nudge. “Sure you do. Stick with Neville, Blaise and me from now on.” He’d been itching to tell him before but did not want to hurt his feelings. Now, it seemed, he had waited too long. “Hey, I know you took to those blokes but you must know that they’re both evil, don’t you? Har?” Ron looked into his eyes as he met his gaze. “No one can be that bloody gullible.”

Harry looked away, blushing. “They’re both so persuasive.” He centred back on Ron’s face. “Er, you aren’t planning on joining in, are you?”

Ron shook his head. “No. I’ve had my fair share of those two already. I’ve been here three terms now and watched them go through all the new boys. I’m going to let you in on a little secret about them.” He leaned into Harry’s side and pressed his lips against the shell of his ear. “They’re playing a game together and you are the prize. They take turns seeing who can get the farthest until they’ve tired of you and used you up. Snape always turns the other cheek with Riddle because he’s secretly madly in love with him. Just keep that in mind next time one of them wants to ‘show you something’ in a broom cupboard.”

Harry felt his stomach lurch. “Yeah, thanks.” Ron patted his shoulder for comfort. It really was embarrassing finding he had been taken for a ride and had fallen for it so easily. He turned to the ginger-haired boy in seriousness, taking his thumb from between his teeth to speak. “You sure it’s all right that I sit with you from now on? I don’t want to be a bother but I think it would be good for me.”

Ron smiled and slapped his shoulder. “Of course it’s all right, mate. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

* * *

“Hey, Harry!” Draco smiled brightly and waved at him as he and Ron entered the classroom.

Tom lazily beckoned him over to the empty seat next to him. “Hurry up, Potter.”

Neither gesture was acknowledged.

Ron steered Harry over to his side of the room and sat him down between Blaise and he. It was a good place to be if anyone tried to pull him away. Despite being slightly smaller and less vocal than the dormitory bullies, these two were fierce.

Draco frowned. “Hey,” he whispered, ignoring Ron’s icy glare. “Hey, what the fuck, Potter? Are you ignoring me?”

“Shut the hell up, Malfoy. He’s done with you.” Ron threaded a hand through Harry’s hair and jerked his head back into the front-facing position. His thumb popped into his mouth. The edge of his nail was immediately bitten and removed.

Draco smirked at Ron. “It’s already begun, hmm? You think he’s going to be able to overlook me once I get him alone?”

“He won’t be alone!” hissed Cedric. “We’re going to protect him from you two.”

“Yes he will. Look at me, Har.” He focused all his attention on the boy. “He’s turning you against me because he wants you, too. He told me he was going to do this last week.”

“Not true,” Ron remarked calmly, patting Harry on the shoulder. “Liar, liar, ponce on fire.”

“Mr. Malfoy, do you require assistance to help you keep your big mouth shut so I can start my lesson?” Everyone stared up at the head of the class. Their young teacher rapped her ruler on the desk as she waited for order to resume.

“I’m sorry, Professor Granger. It won’t happen again,” mumbled Draco. He dropped his head in his hands, hoping she would leave it at that.

“If it does, I’ll strap you to the chair and tape your mouth shut. Now, let’s begin, shall we?”

* * *

Minutes after the lesson had gotten under way; Draco craned his head around to look behind him. Tom met his gaze. He reached out, holding his pinkie finger to the blond-haired boy, who mimicked his gesture. Their fingers interlocked. “I can’t fucking believe he’s dumped me for that stupid ginger.” Draco whispered heatedly.

“Welcome back,” returned Tom, giving their hands a firm shake. “I knew you’d come around.”

He was unable to concentrate on anything else. How dare he be rejected. No one did that to him and got away with it. “He’s going to be so sorry. He’s mine. Why is he doing this to me?”

“Look,” Tom bowed his head gracefully at Draco, turning on his trademark charm. “You can have him all for yourself but I want something in return. I want his virginity. Got it?”

Both boys He turned to look at the beautiful boy fidgeting in his seat.

“Of course, his arse is yours.”


	4. Captive Audience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape is determined to keep Harry a virgin forever but Tom and Draco have very different plans.

In the dead of the night, exactly one month after he had arrived, Harry fell into something akin to dejection. It was Saturday night. Saturday night was card night. There was an extended allotment of time given to socialize and kick back in the common room and tonight the place was filled to the brim with east and west wingers. The only two boys who seemed to be missing were Tom and Draco.

Ron and the others taught Harry how to play poker and lose gracefully. He was just no good at concentrating when all he could think about was missing the softness of Draco’s lips or feeling Tom’s hands roam all over him.

“What’s wrong, mate?” Ron always noticed first. He was a good friend and Harry took to him fast. He surreptitiously scanned the room, noticing the absences of the two in their dormitory and smirked. “They’re probably cornering that new boy from dorm eight. I wouldn’t worry too much.”

Yes, another new boy had come along. He arrived two days earlier at the break of dawn. An emergency case, he was called. Roger Davies was older, ruggedly-handsome, athletic, muscular, masculine and tall; he had everything that Harry lacked. He tried not to feel resentment over it, ignoring the drooling ogles he had seen Draco casting.

Harry sighed at his dwindled stack of poker chips, counting only three left and shrugged. “I’m not feeling well, I’ll probably just go to bed,” he said. Cedric, Blaise, and Neville mumbled their good-byes as he tossed his chips at Ron and stood up. He pushed the sinking dejection away and smiled. “G’night.”

* * *

Harry sat in class, feeling the weight of boredom on his back, wondering if it would ever turn around. That stupid new guy had taken all the attention away from him. He didn’t even know he wanted it - but he did. Tom and Draco kept glaring at him a lot. Both had a shifty look about them. He returned the angry gaze whenever he caught them. He was tired of letting them bully him. If they wanted to play a game with him they would have to earn that prize.

He relaxed into his chair when they finally stopped. He nibbled his nail and returned his attention to the work on his desk. Someone cleared their throat loudly. Cedric looked up at the teacher, following her eyes to Harry and yanked his thumb out of his mouth. “Pay attention,” he whispered, “you don’t want to piss off Professor Granger like Neville did the other day.”

He gave a weak nod and mouthed a silent apology to the teacher. She came around her desk, watching the boy fidget and grumble. “I’d like you to stay after class,” she whispered.

Harry cringed. “I have therapy after class, miss.”

Hermione nodded in understanding. “We could speak after dinner. How would that be?”

“Yes, miss,” he said, keeping his head low. Hermione smiled, patted his hand and turned his textbook to the correct page before walking back to the front of the room.

Tom looked over at Draco, knowing he was thinking the same thing. Granger was a problem. She was one two teachers at the school who could not be ‘persuaded’ into turning the other cheek. She was very good at getting answers and Harry was very bad at keeping secrets. He would crack. If he confessed any sins to her they could all get into some serious trouble. He scribbled a quick note and balled it up before tossing it at Draco.

**_Make Nice with Kitty_ **

Draco chortled and gave Tom a quick nod. Make nice indeed.

* * *

“Well, it’s official,” Harry said, still feeling slightly tipsy as he let Ron walk him back to the dorms, “I’m still a virgin. Everything’s in order. And might I add that it was an especially lovely pipe cleaning today.”

“Tell me about it, mate. Snape gets a bit odder every week.” Ron dropped his books on the bench to stretch as soon as they entered the changing room. “What do the four of you have planned tonight?” he asked.

“Nev, Cedric and Seamus plan on making good use of this place, actually.” Harry patted the bench. “I imagine their little tushes will be all over this in a few minutes.”

Ron frowned. “What are you going to be doing? You’re not planning on joining them, are you?”

“Nah, it’s my turn to guard tonight,” he murmured through a silly grin. Ron dropped down on the bench next to him. “Study, do my homework. They’re all gonna shag themselves to sleep and I’m going to make sure no one walks in on it.”

“Ah, I’ll stay and sit with you.” Ron had a bad feeling about leaving Harry alone. He always had this feeling anymore. As of now, he had thwarted many, many attempts by Tom and Draco to get their hands on the poor sod. Harry was oblivious about this, believing they had abandoned him. He had no idea how those awful blokes worked. It had become somewhat of an art form to them now. It was only a matter of time before Ron slipped up and they grabbed. “I think Blaise is in the Quiet Room until tomorrow anyway. I was going to go pleading with Snape to let him out early but I’ll put that off. We got chess practice and Professor Parkinson warned us about losing again to the west wing. If Professors Lestrange and Lestrange win another tournament we won’t get that extra weekend time to stay up late.”

Harry fell back onto the bench and pulled his jeans on, shaking his head. “I’ll be fine. Seamus and Cedric are just a knock away.”

That seemed okay. “Just make sure you stay away from those two monsters. I’ll see you at dinner,” he said, grinning. “Can’t let the nutters win again. What a joke.”

* * *

Harry was sitting against the wall outside of the changing room, deep in thought as he read over the book resting open over his lap. Within minutes, Seamus, Neville and Cedric strode by, all looking very smug. “Ron told us.”

“Just give the signal if anyone’s coming or those two come to bother you.” Seamus shoved Cedric into the changing room. Neville waved bye-bye to Harry before slamming the door. Harry shook his head as he returned his attention to his algebra homework.

It had been no more than three minutes when Harry realized there was a shadow looming over him, blocking out the light from the ceiling fluorescents. He knew who it was. He did not look up. “You’re in my light, move.”

“Hey, Potter.” Draco put his back to the wall and slid down onto his bum beside him. He reached out and gripped Harry’s knee, giving it a squeeze. “I was hoping to find you here. Seamus told me it was your turn to watch for teachers while he and the others shagged. And here you are. And here I am.”

“You have fantastic timing.” Harry gripped his book and stood up. “Sod off,” he hissed as he turned to alert Cedric, but bumped into something much softer than the oak door he was aiming for. He looked up into pitiless dark eyes. “Oh. Working together now?”

“Shh,” Tom was smiling, holding a finger to Harry’s lips. “Give me that.” He grabbed the book away and dropped it on the ground. Harry backed up and bumped into the other bully.

“I’ve a lot of studying to do, if you don’t mind.” He gritted his teeth against Tom’s finger still pressed against him. Weakness claimed his knocking knees as he stared into the boy’s lovely eyes.

“But we came to kidnap you,” Draco whispered into his ear and back-kicked the book so it slid off into the hallway. “You’re our captive now.”

Harry was seized. Lips trailed to his neck with hard sucking. Tom grabbed his hands, pinning them between them as he too leaned forward and latched onto his throat. Both boys were nipping and licking the skin, tasting his jaw. Draco twisted his head around and covered his mouth with his, swallowing his little mews, lashing him with his tongue while the Head Boy worked at the zipper on his jeans. With a beautiful sigh, Harry relented and surrendered.

Tom claimed his victory without hesitation. “Let’s take him into the changing room,” he whispered, lifting his prize up to rid him of the interfering material shrouding his milky thighs.

“What the hell is—” Seamus clamped his hand over Cedric’s mouth as the door to the changing room banged opened and smacked closed. Neville and Cedric glared over to Draco and Tom who had just invaded their room and had Harry sandwiched tightly between them. Choosing to ignore them, Seamus bent Cedric further over the bench and continued his unabashed tirade.

“You’re not supposed to give in to them anymore,” Neville pointed out. He grabbed his t-shirt up and shoved it over his crotch. “This is our private room tonight, get out.”

Draco sneered at him. “You don’t own it.”

“Ignore him,” reminded Tom, lifting Harry’s chin, displaying his prize so beautifully. “We have better things to do to keep us busy, such as our hostage here.”

“Oh, yes, our captive!” Draco peeped, remembering his pretty plaything trapped between them. “Do want us to show you how truly sorry we are, ?”

“Yes.” Harry let Tom pin his hands behind his back and reach into his knickers uninhibited. Draco again plundered his quivering mouth with his wet tongue. His thighs were parted fully over Tom’s knees, his back was against him. He let his head loll onto the larger boy’s shoulder while Draco assaulted his body.

Cedric nuzzled against Neville’s neck to draw him back. “Ignore them. They aren’t serious about – Oh fuck yes, Seamus, that’s it!” he cried, forgetting all train of thought.

Tom pulled Harry’s shirt over his head and then his own. Draco unbuttoned and kicked his trousers off, mesmerised by the lascivious gaze on the captured boy’s face. “Do you forgive me?” he breathed, dropping to his knees between his thighs. He slid Harry’s knickers down, licking his lips seeing Tom’s large hand move to his swelling sex. “Hold him tight, we don’t want him getting away from us. He looks like he might run.” A tiny giggle escaped him, he had no intension of running.

Neville groaned, feeling his own prick stirring with heat. The sight of Tom holding Harry captive, coercing him to surrender to Draco’s hot mouth nearly made him come. “I won’t tell, Tom. I’d never tell on you,” he gushed, his eyes tracing the defined muscle of Tom’s solid form.

“They’re not really holding me captive, you damned idiot.”

“Gag the prisoner, Draco, he’s telling them our secrets,” Tom ordered in a sexy drawl. Harry shivered.

“Be quiet, victim.” Draco kissed Harry again, gagging his mouth with his lovely tongue.

“Get over here and make yourself useful, Longbottom,” Tom ordered, his face now buried in Harry’s ebony locks. “You smell so fucking delicious, Potter. Let me take you.”

“I wish I could, but I can’t,” Harry sighed, swishing his dizzy head to and fro. “Snape warned me today. Said this was his priority. I will remain a virgin until I leave here.”

Tom swallowed the heat that began to bubble hot in his chest. “That bastard. He’s just trying to scare you. You need to stop letting him get to you.”

Draco trapped the tip of the pretty cock between his teeth and looked up into Harry’s eyes. His tongue formed and pressed over the slit as his lips closed, sealing over the foreskin. Neville was behind Tom rubbing his shoulders, nibbling on his earlobe. Harry arched his back and tugged on his pinned wrists, wishing Tom would release him so he sink his fingers into Draco’s hair. “Our captive is trying to escape.”

Draco pressed his hands down over Harry’s sweaty thighs. “I’m so sorry I’m a bad boy. Not as horrible as Tom, but still,” he whispered and licked, enjoying the vision in front of him. “Do you forgive me?”

Seamus was grunting through each grind, Cedric flattened his hands on the floor in front of him for leverage to shove back against the slick ruts. Tom was purring like a old cat against Neville’s throat, and the boy on his lap groaned at the loss of warmth.

“I do, okay? God, just keep sucking,” whined Harry.

Tom’s wicked laughter reverberated along Harry’s throat. “That’s right Draco,” he said darkly, holding the base of his cock tightly in his fist “Look how happy and forgetful you're making him.”

“So happy. So forgetful,” Draco hummed through laps at the luscious arousal against his lips.

“Longbottom,” growled Tom, aroused by the skillful hands all over him. “Get over the bench—arse in the air and your mouth on Cedric’s prick.” The sandy-haired boy moved quickly, climbing onto the bench on his hands and knees with his face now buried along the soft curls in the juncture of Cedric’s thighs. Tom stood up, releasing Harry into Draco’s care. “Watch the prisoner. Don’t let him escape.”

Draco smiled and pulled Harry into a kiss. Their limbs entwined and their tongues twisted as they ground their hips to meet the others’ straining and weeping cocks. Harry threw his head back, his breath puffed through his lips. Draco curled his larger frame around the boy, shielding him from the other’s gazes. “About before. I get so competitive-”

“You both got caught up in besting the other, I know, Ron told me,” finished Harry. He pushed back the damp strands of silver hair from his lover’s eyes. “You’re so lovely, as evil as you are.”

Tom got lost in the zealous wonderment, watching Neville sucking and humming on Cedric’s balls while he gripped his hips and thrust his manhood deep inside. Seamus filled Cedric’s beautiful mouth with his tongue, already hard and leaking again as he kneeled by the side of the bench.

“You really forgive me? I feel awful about it, Potter.” Tom hadn’t apologised once but Draco was practically begging forgiveness. Harry glanced over his shoulder at Tom, who was so scary but so striking to look at. He was having sex with Neville and really enjoying it. Something prickled inside of him.

Draco tapped him. “Well?”

“Okay, sure.” He said, looking back at him. “Only if you promise not to use me up and toss me away like you do with all the others.”

“I promise.”

“And never look at Roger Davies again.”

“I have no interest in that caveman. I was doing that to make you jealous.”

“And try your hardest to not have sex with anyone else unless I’m there,” he stated firmly, tightening his jaw.

“I’ll try.”

“And apologise to Ron for being such a prat.”

Draco scrunched his nose. “Right. That’s quite a list. You done yet?”

Harry nibbled on his chin and wiggled around over his groin. “Okay, I forgive you.” His hand trailed down the blonde’s body, moving along his side. He looked him in the eye and kissed his swollen lips. “I want you to come really hard for me,” he breathed, taking the thick hardness in his hand. “Come all over me and lick it off nice and slow. Okay?”

Draco blinked. “Oh, fuck, okay.” He rolled over Harry into a straddle, arching his back as he moved along with the thrusts of his hand. His emotions were wrought, the sense of lust and love for this gorgeous-little-tart-of-a-specimen swirled around him with a glimmering haze. “I’m so fucking close already. I don’t think I can hold on.”

Tom pumped into Neville's arse while sweat formed and dripped on his skin, but his eyes were on Harry, dark and covetous. The fantasy swimming in his head did not involve Neville in the least; he wanted Harry. He wanted the pretty boy between his thighs, squirming and begging to be fucked—and he would have him soon.

Harry gripped Draco’s bottom, drawing him in closer to his face. “Put it in my mouth. Fuck my mouth nice and hard,” he groaned out, tipping his head up and resting his tongue over his bottom lip. He pushed up with his elbows and grinned enthusiastically while Draco held and stroked his cock over his chin. “I want to choke and gag on your come, please,” he begged.

Draco shook his head furiously. “Too late— I’m coming!” he yelled in exhilaration. Harry rose up, running his tongue along the pulsating vein, following it up to the slit. The silver-haired boy grabbed a handful of inky hair, tossing his own head back as his orgasm assailed and conquered his modesty. He cried out into the room with the purring hum of his lover’s lips sealed over his cock, eagerly sucking and milking him dry.

The room grew noisier. Tom’s deep grunting and slick thrusts pounded into Neville’s ears and backside. He huffed and whimpered in response; his mouth still clamped over Cedric’s iron-erection. Seamus’s hand shucked his own cock from root to tip in quick succession while he dipped his tongue in and out of his lover’s mouth.

Draco dropped his head on Harry’s shoulder in recovery but his hand moved down to envelop his hardness. “I’m going to make you feel so good,” he whispered against the crook of his neck, “Want you calling my name really loud for all these silly blokes to hear.”

Tom gritted his teeth, groaning deep in his throat as his climax burst forth. He fell backward, landing hard on the bench, overheated and completely out of breath. It was then the ugly nips of envy began to crawl over his skin the moment he heard the sweet sounds of panting coming from the two prettiest boys in the school. He searched through the darkness, focusing and finding them curled up together wanking each other silly. He huffed, is chest swelling with covetousness. “He- he shouldn’t be allowed to come until he gives up his virginity.”

“Mind ya business, dumdum.” Draco held Harry against him with continued workings over his sweet arousal. “Don’t listen to him, just come for me if you can,” he whispered in earnest but was pushed away.

Harry grunted. Something began to bother him, he just wasn’t sure what the reason was. “Nah, let’s just go.” He grabbed his jeans and t-shirt before Draco could stop him. He pulled them on and stood up; looking over the other boys sprawled out along the bench. That swell of jealousy that had cinched Tom now smacked the new boy in the face as it occurred to him the Head Boy had abandoned him to turn his attentions to Neville. His eye twitched. He gave him a dirty look.

Tom fell back against the bench. He stretched out fully nude; his lean, muscular form splayed without a hint of shame. He was watching Harry very carefully. “What was that for?”

Looking up, Draco pointed out that their time was almost up. “It’s nearly dinner. Everyone, get your clothes on.”

Cedric quivered as he groped around on the floor for his clothing. Seamus and Neville were nearly dressed.

Giving Tom one more scrunchy-nose glare, Harry opened his mouth to say something nasty but Draco grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the room.

* * *

“You didn’t have that during class.” Sitting at his desk, keeping his eyes on the wooden grain shellacked to a shining finish, Harry waited nervously as Hermione Granger circled around him like a hawk. “Are you going to tell me who did it?”

“No, miss,” Harry said gloomily. He had no idea there was any evidence of the changing room romp. He would have worn a scarf.

She traced the deep purplish mark on his neck with her finger. “Afraid I won’t approve of your taste in boys, Mr. Potter?”

Startled, Harry looked up at the teacher very briefly. “I don’t want to get anyone into trouble, Professor.”

“Do you really think I’d punish the naughty little boy who took advantage of you?”

“Er,” Harry gulped. He hoped Professor Granger was not as smart as she appeared to be. “I sort of do, actually.”

Her face was nearly touching his now. Harry could feel her breath purl over his cheek. “Was it Malfoy? He’s so mischievous, isn’t he? He certainly enjoys watching you.” She rapped her ruler on the desk. Harry jumped. “Perhaps it was Tom. So wicked. Such a mystery. He watches you, too.”

“I can’t say. I’m sorry,” he mumbled pathetically, knowing at any moment she might send him off to Snape’s office.

Hermione cupped his chin, forcing him to look at her. She gave him a warm smile. “As long as no one is hurting you, I won’t force you to say. Yet. You would tell me if any one of those boys were making you do things you didn’t want to, yes?”

Harry felt like a fool. “Yes, miss.”

“You’re not a very good liar,” she whispered and released his chin. She stood erect and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ll give you some time. Come back tomorrow directly after dinner so we can resume this chat. I want the boy’s name that marked you. If you do not comply you will be sent to the Quiet Room to sleep for your own protection. Do I make myself clear?”

“I didn’t ask for- Oh, never mind,” he said, making his way to the door.

“Good evening, Mr. Potter, and remember,” she called out, watching him disappear in the darkened hallway, “You’ve got one day.”


	5. Cold Shower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fed up with Tom's evil ways and Draco's inability to give him an orgasm, Harry looks for affection from another dorm mate.

“Er, no.”

“Really?”

“I have tried.”

“How does he feel about that? Has he asked you to?”

“Yeah, well, yeah, all the time.”

“How utterly selfish of you. I had no idea you were all for yourself.”

“I’m not! I feel real bad about It.”

Seamus Finnigan stepped over to the mirror and began tying his tie. The sat in the changing room dressing and gossiping in the early hour before the morning bell rang. “Why don’t you just do him then? Just tie him down and force him to have an orgasm. I highly doubt he’d put up much of a struggle, he really seems to fancy you.”

Draco Malfoy sat heavily on the bench and sighed. “You don’t think I’ve tried? Every bloody time we’re alone he’s all over my prick and then whenever I try and get him off – well, there’s always something interrupting us. Last night Blaise and Ron bang in and drag him off to the Quiet Room for that wretched busybody Granger. I do want to give him an orgasm, I swear it but he’s been in there all week!”

“Well, all I’m saying is he’s going to remember who’s giving it to him and who ain’t, that’s all I’m saying.” He turned, unable to keep silent. “Tom gave him an orgasm. A real good one, too, from what I hear. Teddy Nott said he could hear Harry screaming from the—”

“Fuck off, Seamus. I know that!” Draco interrupted, scowling.

Seamus sighed. “You really fancy him, don’t you?”

Draco gaped at him. “Are you joking? He’s like- Everything he does, every little detail about him drives me completely mad with passion. Like how he drinks juice and it stains his lips and makes a red moustache and he makes me lick it off whenever I point it out – Or how he chews his nails and sucks his thumb but slaps my hand when I chew mine because it’s not proper. And that look he gives me when he sees me - like I’m a god, like I’m someone very special. Not to mention the fact that my dick gets rock-hard every time I even think about him. He’s so sexy and ditzy and snuggly. Yeah, you could say I might fancy him a little bit.”

“And here you both are, in a school to make you chaste. He makes you come all the time and you can’t reciprocate. He’ll be run off with Riddle by the end of the year. Oh, and Snape’s hell-bent on keeping him chaste. He asked me to watch you, you know. He trusts Tom alone with him. That’s not good, Malfoy.”

Draco nodded dejectedly. “I know. Snape’s got to learn what a right bastard Tom really is. Fortunately for me, Harry is currently seriously pissed off at him for shagging Neville and being an all around motherfucker about it. I’ll do my best to keep him safe but he’s so stupidly gullible and stupidly optimistic and just plain stupid. In a day or two Tom’ll have him back in his clutches.” He bit his fingernail.

“Obsessed much?”

“Perhaps. Does it matter?”

Seamus snorted in amusement. “I haven’t heard you talk like this before – Not even when you were obsessed with Tom. And speaking of which—there’s something I should tell you.”

Draco tipped his head in curio. “What now?”

Seamus cringed. “Well, you really need to watch Tom. He told me that he stole a key to the Quiet Room and had one of the west wingers make a copy of it in shop.”

“Wait—What?!”

Seamus looked up at the clock and counted down the last three seconds before the first school bell rang. “Change of subject, they’re coming!”

The changing room door opened and tens of boys sauntered inside to switch into their uniforms. Harry and Ron were the last two to enter, with the pretty one clinging all over the other like a cheap shirt.

“Will someone please tell ickle Potty here that I’m quite capable of dressing myself, thank you very much,” Ron blustered, but made no move to remove the arms draped around his shoulders. “Apparently, I’m not as blessed as the rest of you ponces and lack that certain gene that makes my uniform look sexy on me. But I’ll say this; I certainly dress better than most of my brothers, except Bill.”

Draco frowned at the mention of that name.

Harry laughed noisily as he snuggled into Ron’s neck. “And someone please inform Won-Won that he’s still a poof regardless of how much he tries to camouflage it.” He pressed his body into Ron, shoving him in a different direction. “And he’s going to make up with Draco right now while I’ve got them both together!”

Ron growled. He was having a hard time accepting his sudden change of heart and bout of good-guyness from the blond. His cheeks flushed, matching the ginger colour of his hair. “Malfoy, move!” he hissed, feeling his body forced along side the prat.

“Aww, c’mon, I need a kiss, Won-Won. You too, Dwaco,” cooed Harry, slinging an arm around both their necks before they could retreat. He pulled both of their heads in toward his, forcing their lips against his cheeks until he felt a peck from each boy.

Ron’s throat made a sort of grumpy noise. “Okay, let go now.”

Harry giggled as he released them. “What, no kiss for Malfoy?”

Draco batted his lashes at Ron, who gave him a rude gesture in return. “Oh, Won-Won, you disappoint me.”

"I'm gonna disappoint you - with my fists if you try to kiss me, Dwaco," Ron replied.

Harry rolled his eyes as he walked to his locker. “You two will learn to tolerate each other if it kills me. Mark my word.”

“And what about that, Harry?” The shrill words prickled like frost under the boy’s skin. Hearing his real name spoken through Tom’s lips was like poison sitting in the pit of his stomach. He refused to look up at at the boy, who was now standing less than an arm’s length away. “Why so eager to form alliances between certain dorm mates? What’s wrong with the way things were?”

Harry sorted through his uniforms, looking for the cleanest set. “You mean filthy commoners and special folk like you, right?”

"Maybe." Tom leaned against the locker next to him. “Just go back to the old way and everything will be fine.”

With a snort, Harry closed his locker and bent down to remove his pyjamas. “I like having friends, loads of them. I also like my friends being friends. You wouldn’t understand that because you fuck all of yours over every chance you get.” He threw his pyjama bottoms in the laundry bin and stepped into his knee pants.

Several boys stopped breathing and one or two clutched their chests. No one had ever talked to the Head Boy like that before. It was unheard of, even Snape kept his tongue around him. Harry’s newfound grudge with the older boy had given him a sense of bravery that almost bordered on foolishness. Within seconds, Draco had inched up behind him to finish dressing him and Ron was at his side ready to throw the first punch.

Tom blinked several times in rapid succession. The corners of his lips lifted up into a cheeky smile. “So fiesty, you jealous little thing. I should bend Longbottom over a bench more often. I enjoy seeing you this lively.” The look he was giving sent shivers through everyone. It was neither hatred nor lust, but something perverted in-between.

Harry shrugged. “I’m here to please.”

Tom’s eyes lit up red. “Oh yes, you definitely are here to please. Me. By the way, have I told you?” His words remained calm and snooty. He looked down at his manicured fingernails, feigning interest in the other boys surrounding them. “My father is coming here on visiting day and wants to take a look at you. He said he knew your parents before they died.”

Harry looked up from his tie and stared at him curiously. “He knew my parents?”

Draco looped his arms around his waist in preparation to carry him out of the room. He knew that look on the Head Boy’s smug face. He was going to say something awful.

Tom arched a brow as he gazed back at Harry. “Sure did. He said your dad was a spoiled rich brat and your mum was utter trash who lured his dumb ass into marriage by pretending to be pregnant. Your dad was so drunk all of the time he wouldn’t have known the difference.” He grinned wickedly as Harry’s tough-guy attitude began to crumble. _Check_  “He also mentioned that he shagged your mum all the time, even after they got married. He wants to look you over to be sure you’re not his son, too. Said she was the best cheap shag he ever had. Who knows; maybe we're brothers.”

Harry trembled with anger. “That’s a lie.”

Brimming with jealousy, Tom pushed forth. “It’s true: your mother was a great big whore and you took right after her, you commoner slut.” _Mate_

"Oh boy, here we go..." Draco interlaced his fingers around Harry's waist and hoisted him up the instant he felt him twitch to attack.

Ron stepped in their path, blocking the Head Boy’s access to them. “Leave him alone, Riddle; we both know who’ll come out of this fight and who’ll be back in the hospital wing.”

Tom looked over him to watch Harry as he struggled to break free. He winked at him as he blew him a kiss, pretending that the hate-fuelled exasperation on Harry's face didn't bother him. “Out of my way, Weasel,” he said, feigning care, “I’ve got better things to do than worry about yours, Dwaco’s and little Fairy Potter’s love triangle.”

Ron scowled at him for a moment before moving out of the way to let him pass. “Stay the hell away from him,” he said with a snarled lip. “He’s too good for you.”

Tom turned away, fuming. “Right.”

* * *

Professor Rodolphus Lestrange slammed his hand down on the desk as he stood up. He pressed a button on the wall behind him before whirling back around to face the class. “You’ve tested my patience for the last time, Macmillan. It was more than obvious that you have a problem with authority. We’ll see whose laughing last once you’ve spent the day with my dear wife in the Authority Room.”

Ernie Macmillan jerked around in his desk chair, wrenching at the straps holding him in place. “Piss off, you sadistic freak! My father will hear about this! He’s a Member of Parliament and can have your—” His words caught in his throat as Crabbe and Goyle burst through the door.

Harry flinched unconsciously. Draco reached out and massaged his shoulder for comfort. “Hey, you okay?”

“I’m going to tell Professor Granger about Tom,” he whispered, watching the two large men rip Ernie from his seat and drag him off. He bit down on his last fingernail. “I’m tired of him messing with me. Maybe she’ll be able to make it stop.”

Draco knew she couldn’t. “Hold off on that,” he said quietly. He pulled his hand away before the teacher witnessed their act of touching, grabbing his pencil instead to write down the homework assignment written up on the blackboard.

The classroom door darkened in the corner of Harry’s eye. He looked up and saw Professor Black enter the room. He nudged Draco’s arm as the older man gestured for him to do so. “Mr. Malfoy, do not forget about our appointment. It is very important that you are not late.” The blond looked up to the sound of the voice and gave him a nod. Black tapped the face of his watch and walked out of the room.

Harry frowned. He felt confused and covetous over Draco’s reaction to the older man. “You don’t want me to tell her? And what was that about? Where are you going with Professor Black?” More jealousy, seething and cinching.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said quickly. The bell rang for the final class period. Everyone stood up and gathered their books. Draco tossed everything into his bag and slung it over his shoulder. Without waiting on Harry, he merely said, “Don’t tell Professor Granger yet; trust me. I’ll explain later - I have to go.”

“Wait!” In a huff, Harry watched him quickly depart. With a sigh, he gathered up his belongings and shoved them in his bag. The strangest sensation began to crawl up his spine. He looked across the room, feeling of someone’s eyes burning holes into him. Sure enough, Tom was behind him, smirking jovially. Harry shoved his thumb in his mouth and ran from the room.

* * *

The chess table in the back of the common room was normally occupied by Ronald and Blaise every night and this night was certainly no different. Harry and Cedric sat on each side of them watching them debate and strategise moves they worked on each night before bed check. It was boring and un-fun, mostly boring. Both boys found themselves yawning and fidgeting every few seconds.

Ron pursed his lips, pointing to the writing tablet resting on the side table between his and Blaise’s chairs. “B5 at this point in the match? You really think taking it slow with Corner is wise? I’ve heard he’s quite vicious.”

“He’s good but he’s completely shallow,” Blaise informed him while jotting down something he suddenly remembered on the writing tablet. “He comes out attacking too swiftly which normally jars the casual opponent. I know better. Look here.”

Harry glanced over his notes and rolled his eyes. The notations appeared very much like code to him. Cedric thrummed his fingers on his knee, looking exceptionally inattentive. For the first time in nearly a year Neville had gotten himself into some serious trouble. He was spending the weekend in the Authority Room with Professor Bellatrix Lestrange and Ernie Macmillan. He would not be released until Sunday.

Cedric leaned over Harry, pretending to look at the tablet but instead pressed his lips to his ear and whispered, “You want to head out with me and find someplace private?”

Restless, resentful, bored stiff, frustrated and jealous-to-all-get-out, Harry stood up and took his hand. “Yeah,” he replied, “Lead on.” If Draco could run off with anyone he pleased and Tom could shag anyone he wanted there was nothing wrong with letting a muscular, nicer, gorgeously-handsome boy-next-door drag him off, too.

* * *

Standing under a jet stream of heated water, Cedric ran his hand down the length of Harry’s torso while pressing him firmly against the cooled tiles. He nuzzled his mouth over the pillowy expansion of his lips, fascinated by the willing tongue that began to dip back against his. Cedric’s fingers wrapped themselves around Harry’s blushing cock and began to stroke. “You’re really beautiful,” he whispered, watching the boy’s head tip back against the wall of the shower to fully enjoy the pleasure being offered to him.

Nothing wrong with this, Harry told himself, nothing at all.

Cedric ran his tongue along the line of Harry’s jaw as he slowly lowered his head, tasting the taut sun-kissed flesh. He stopped at his throat, sucking the skin under his mouth and marking it a deeper shade of violet-purple than Draco or Tom would ever dare. Harry allowed it – willed it to happen. “Suck harder, Ced,” he whispered through the splatter of water pelting his sweet face. Draco would be sorry for running off - Tom, too; they would see that he did not need them. “Don’t stop,” he moaned, lolling his head to his shoulder.

Cedric attacked him, taking the boy into his embrace; kneading, nipping, biting the fine skin until it nearly bled. Harry was so beautiful and willing, deserving of the syrupy ravishments. He wanted him, no matter how badly the cost may be.

They pressed their bodies together, trapping their swelling cocks to their bellies. Cedric curled his leg around him as he ground his pelvis into Harry’s wet flesh. He wanted to fuck him, to feel Harry’s sweet ass draw and tease his tortured arousal into bliss. “Let me take you,” he breathed, his husky voice vibrating against his neck. “Let me take your virginity, please.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Both boys turned toward the foreign intrusion masked by the steamy haze of their shower. Harry lowered his gaze back to Cedric and encircled his neck upon seeing the tall, dark figure close in.

Cedric sneered at the disruption of the boy who thought he owned the world. “Go away, we’re busy,” he said in a tone of voice pushing the boundaries of mustered arrogance. He was not very convincing.

“I don’t recall ever dragging you into the showers, Cedric,” continued Tom, standing over them with a look of pure evil shadowing his features. “when Seamus claimed your arse last summer. I do not ‘fuck’ others’ boys. And here you are trying to fuck mine – I thought I had seen everything until now.”

“He’s not your boy, Riddle.” He pulled Harry closer to his form, chilled by the cooling temperature of the water and the icy glare of the dormitory bully. “We can do whatever we want.”

Tom took a further step into the shower stall, fully clothed and uncaring how drenched he became. He rested his hand over Harry’s shoulder, applying pressure near the nape of his neck.

Harry’s instinct to submit clicked on. He shut it off. “Do you mind? I’m in the middle of something right now.” He brushed the hand from his shoulder and returned his attention to Cedric.

Tom blinked. Instead of the anger Cedric’s remarks generated, Harry’s stung like a thousand bees. “What?”

The pretty boy nuzzled in, capturing his new lover’s mouth and ignoring the stunned prat standing behind him. An annoying finger began poking him on the shoulder. “Ugh, Bugger off, Riddle!”

Unable to take it any longer, Tom’s mask of horrible person fell off with with a shudder of rejection. “Okay, I get it,” he exclaimed, yanking the boy away from the other. “You’re pissed off at me! I’m-”

“Not as much as I am at him!” The jeering words filled the shower room. Everyone froze. Something charged through the steamy cloud of mist. Stomping, a swish of a towel, grabby hands yanked, draped and hefted Harry up and dropped him over a shoulder. Draco Malfoy bared his teeth and growled at Tom and Cedric. He stared them both down, breathing hard, trembling with displeasure. “How dare you!” he shrieked at last and stomped back out of the room.


	6. Revenge is Delicious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco finally gets his prize while Tom is in for a hell of a surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yes, exaggerated cocks and easy first time sex is perfectly normal. 
> 
> Stop looking at me like that.

_“What are you looking at?!”_ 　  
  
Everyone in the corridor averted their eyes. Draco’s furious expression was more than intimidating enough to quell anyones urge to aid Harry while he hung helplessly over the large boy’s shoulder. “Get the hell out of the way!” he shouted, pushing past a gathering of students conversing in the hall as they rounded the corner.　  
  
“Put me down. If a teacher sees us we’re dead.” Harry whispered.  
  
Ignoring him, Draco pressed on, dredging through the halls, twisting down narrowed passages that Harry had never seen before. At the end of the final pathway, blocked by a dark brick wall, Draco opened the last door on the left and stepped inside. He immediately shoved Harry onto the floor. He kept the towel.　  
  
The large room was a sharp contrast to the dormitory, it was lavishly decorated with a four poster bed, a large screen television and a magnificent wardrobe. The walls were painted a deep shade of green and the floors were carpeted with expensive Berber. Three torches bracketed to the walls flickered with low flames, only adding shadow to the villainous glare Draco was giving him. “Get on the bed and stick your fucking arse up in the air,” he ordered. “You are in so much trouble.”  
  
With a returned look of hate, Harry climbed onto the bed like a cornered wildcat, claws popped and hissing. He hunched down and arched his back, watching Draco cross the room and rest down next to him. “You have nothing to say to me about— _*thwack*_ —ouch!” Harry gasped, his hand flew to his hip to rub the stinging flesh. Draco shoved it out of the way and smacked him again, harder. “Ow, stop!”  
  
“I go through all this work, use up all of my favours to get to get someone to jemmy the lock here and I have to run around to find you. And where do I find you? Screwing around in the showers with Tom and Cedric. I am so pissed off right now I doubt I could even get it up if I wanted to- Which I don’t!” Struggling to hold him down, he climbed over and shoved Harry’s arms behind his back, crossing and pinning his wrists at the base of his spine. “You fucking sit still until I’m satisfied you’ve gotten the point.”  
  
“You’re always running off with Black. How was I supposed to know you had this planned? Well?! _Ow_!”  
  
Draco smirked impishly as he ran the palm of his hand in circles over the reddened flesh. “Hurts, don’t it?” he teased, lightening his demeanour a bit as he suddenly realised Harry’s position of anger. “Is that what this is about; Professor Black?”　  
  
Harry bucked back against him, unable to admit he might have been too hasty to run off and break his part of the bargain. “Whose room is this?”  
  
Draco grabbed him up as he moved over to the edge of the bed, swinging his long legs over the side. “Bend over my knee so we can finish this,” he said in a snooty-proper voice, his nose stuck high in the air.  
  
The word ‘no’ nearly slipped past his lips until his eyes centred on Draco’s enormous erection practically ripping the cloth of his trousers apart. With a grunting huff, Harry pushed himself forward and draped his body over the mean boy’s lap. “Fine then, just get it over with so I can leave and never have to see you again.”  
  
A barking chuckle rippled through Draco’s throat. “You think I’m letting you walk out of here before I’ve fucked you?” He brought his hand down, smacking Harry’s bottom with the tips of his fingers. The sound resonated in the room as his hand connected again with raw flesh. Harry yelped and tried to stand up but Draco had him firm by the nape of his neck.　  
  
“All right!” Harry cried, baring his teeth at the floor he was forced to look at. “Enough, goddamnit!”  
  
Draco’s hand stopped in mid-swing as his lips curled up nice and strong. “Learned your lesson? Good, now spread your legs apart.” Harry sighed heavily and complied, thankful to have the heated punishment come to an end. “Farther, Harry, spread them wide open so I can get my fingers in,” ordered Draco, giving his arse one final swat.　  
  
“Bastard.” Dribbling oil along the swelled curve, Draco tightened his grip on Harry’s neck as he massaged the soothing liquid along his entrance. Harry tensed at the abrupt intrusion of the first finger penetrating past the taut muscle. “Go slower!”  
  
“Quiet now,” the snobbish intonation flowing from Draco’s mouth was grating on Harry’s nerves. He slid his finger in deeper before pulling back to add a second. Harry sniffled, hating the position he was in, unable to see or feel Draco’s beautiful body against his. “Are you crying?”  
  
Harry huffed loudly. “You spanked me!”  
  
“Well, I only treat you how you deserve to be treated –like a baby. You act like a child, running around letting other people touch you when you know that you’re mine. You need to learn your lesson,” said Draco punctually. “Now sit still, I’m nearly finished preparing you for my gigantic dick.”  
  
Harry wiggled around in his lap, brushing against Draco’s stiff member. “You’re not putting that thing in me. I’ve got to go to the Quiet Room tonight and Snape might- you know, check me.”  
  
Draco unlocked his knees, letting him fall to the floor. “You’re ready,” he said. He stood up and began undressing as Harry gaped at him in awe.  
  
“Did you not hear me? Are you daft?”  
  
“I’ve got it all worked out. Trust me,” he said, grinning. He sat back on the bed and began stroking his cock from base to head. Harry crawled up between his thighs like a kitten, soft and purring. “C’mere, remind me of how good you suck,” he moaned, pressing his thick manhood to the black haired boy’s lips.　  
  
Harry looked up at the ceiling as he considered it. “Hmm, I suppose,” he said sweetly, returning the silly grin. “You might be worth it.”  
  
“Oh, I am.” Draco buried his fingers in Harry’s inky hair, drawing him closer. “Get me ready, I don’t want to mess around and risk losing this chance. We seem to have the worst—what the hell is that on your neck?!” A pang of jealousy welled up inside of him, seeing the large purple bruise beneath Harry’s left ear. “Whhhhhooo did that?”  
  
“Er, I don’t want another spanking,” Harry murmured.　  
  
Draco crossed his arms over his chest for a few seconds while Harry held his breath between his thighs.　He stared in awe; admiring his gorgeous, luminescent skin pulled so tightly over the slim muscles of his torso. His hair shimmered in the torchlight, ethereal and surreal, draped over his shoulders in silvery threads. His pale, pointed face more regal than any portrait he had ever seen. He was stunning to watch and so wicked and brilliant to know. Without waiting for an answer, Harry ran his tongue along the underside of his cock, bracing it with a hand as Draco jumped from being startled. He paused, dragging his thumb up the pulsing vein until he reached the very tip. “You just want me to get you wet enough to fuck me, right?” His words were so innocent and his eyes so large and searching. Draco shivered from his touch and melted under his hand.  
  
“Come here, get on the bed,” he whispered as the swell of jealousy transformed into desire. He pressed Harry back against the mattress and crawled between his legs, parting and raising them bent. “It will hurt, but I’ll do my best to lessen it as much as I can. Just let me know if you want me to stop.”  
  
He positioned himself, again using his fingers and smothering Harry’s pretty sex with oil. Slowly and ever so lightly he moved, pushing the head past the tight ring of muscle. Harry tensed fully and bit down on his lip. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the spindles of the bedstead.　  
  
“No, no, relax. Yes.” He watched Harry’s eyelashes flutter; the soft brushes flat against the rise of his cheekbones. Draco pulled forward, pressing a kiss over the tissue-thin skin of his eye. Harry’s chest rose and fell, the satiating sensations of Draco’s warmth shrouding him in joy. Another slight gasp slipped past his lips as his other eye was graced and kissed. Draco cupped his face in his hands, lowering his chin as he ran his lips down the curve of Harry’s nose and pecked the rounded tip with a third chaste kiss.  
  
Draco began to move as cautiously as possible. It almost seemed unnatural to want something this precious from him. Harry trembled in his arms, his lips parted in pain. He sucked in a great breath and held it deep within him. Draco’s attention returned to the soft swell of his lips. He held him close, whispering the most beautiful of sentiments clouding his senses.　  
  
Coaxing his hands away from the bedstead, he ran his fingers around to the nape of his neck and his other hand behind his knee, easing himself deeper inside with the least amount of pressure. “Put your arms around me. Dig your nails into my back if you need to,” he breathed, and Harry nestled closer in his embrace.　  
  
“It hurts, I’m trying,” he said in a laboured breath, holding the larger boy tightly.　  
  
Resting on an elbow, Draco threaded his fingers through Harry’s hair, coaxing his head back to plunder his mouth. Their tongues twined and swirled, Harry’s fingers dug deeply into Draco’s back as he moved once more. The merciful oil Sirius Black had given him aided his thrust, tipping his hips and filling Harry completely.　  
  
Harry squirmed against the strange and wondrous sensation. “It’s not as bad once you’re used to it,” Draco whispered soothingly. He eased Harry back against the bed and placed a finger over his mouth. “Now I’m going to make you come and I don’t want you to stop me.” Harry nodded and gasped with newfound pleasure, feeling Draco’s hand twisting over his arousal.　  
  
He was so tight, so exquisite; Draco was close to coming without yet moving. He lavished his attentions on Harry, stroking him firmly hard. Soon enough, Harry began to respond willingly, fluttering against him, begging him to move inside of him. He gave another grinding push and drew back, all the while gliding flesh to flesh in hot strokes, listening to Harry’s mews and groans plead for release. “I’m close, Draco,” he blurted out, his eyes shut tight and his teeth clenched. Draco heaved against him and impelled the boy’s cock with several gyrating rocks. Fully relaxed and supplicating, the strong wave of pleasure paralyzed his every muscle.  
  
His tortured mewls filled the room as he relented to Draco’s firm hand. Harry subsided in his arms as the voluptuous abandon spilled out onto his stomach through an explosion of bliss. He fell back into the downy pillows fighting for breath while Draco gripped him by the hips to return deep within him.　  
  
Watching him closely as he neared his peak, Harry was barely conscious under him. He was so flushed with fulfillment, his lips left moving in whimpering plead. He pulled his knees up, meeting and surging upward. Draco hissed as wave upon wave slammed against him. His climax crested and release shattered from within. He stiffened and convulsed, cried and collapsed in a heap over top of him.　

* * *

Harry hadn’t remembered falling asleep but he woke tangled up in Draco’s limbs. Raw panic set in as he realised that Crabbe and Goyle were probably combing the school in search of him. “Wake up, please,” he whispered, giving the larger boy a shake. “I’m going to be in so much trouble. I have to go.”

  
Draco groaned, refusing to let him go for a moment. “It’s all right, tonight will be your last night in there.”  
  
“How do you know that?” asked Harry.  
  
Cupping his chin, sipping his lips, Draco smiled softly as he whispered his intentions. “Now listen to me carefully, Harry, I’ve got a plan.”

* * *

Being carried along down the corridor under his arms and knees, Harry had learned quickly that struggling was a particularly bad idea. Crabbe and Goyle had managed to bang his head into the wall twice, dropped him once and threatened to repeat their actions if he so much as moved a single muscle while in their care. He played dead, letting them haul him away off to the Quiet Room.

  
The serene calm of the padded pale-pink walls and lavender floor could not ease Harry’s spirits. Goyle stripped him down to his skivvies and laced him into a thick canvas straitjacket once more; ignoring his pleas to confirm with Professor Granger that he was NOT being punished and therefore had no need to be restrained every fucking night. Goyle finished by tightening the crotch strap between his thighs, tonight cinching it so tight it rode up between his cheeks. “That hurts!” he cried, biting down on his lower lip. He would not blubber, especially not in front of these two idiots.  
  
“Stop whining,” chimed Goyle, smacking the side of the boy’s face after removing his glasses. “Nighty-night!”  
  
Harry shrieked in frustration.　  
  
“Shut up and go to sleep!” hissed Crabbe, who stood over him pounding his fist against the palm of his hand.　  
  
“You don’t scare me, either!” he cried. Crabbe and Goyle both smirked and left the small room, slamming and locking the door behind them.　  
  
The overhead lights dimmed down to a warm shade of mauve. Lulling music was being piped through a single speaker bracketed to the wall. Harry all but waited for fuzzy bunnies to appear from nowhere and start cuddling with him. He jerked around for a moment, testing the strength of the encasement restraining his arms. The strap between his legs wrenched up hard over his groin. Tonight, it would be impossible to escape or find any comfort. He sighed out a ragged breath, huddled against the far corner of the room and closed his eyes. He would wait - certain that it was only a matter of time before Tom broke in and tried to seduce him.  
  
The door to the room creaked open and Harry opened his eyes, squinting at the dark silhouette of a man walking toward him.　  
  
“What are you doing here?!” he cried, in the best damsel-in-distress voice he could manage. He backed himself as far into the corner as best he could and continued to weakly call for help until Tom reached out and yanked him up. He held up a very familiar looking syringe and plunged it into Harry’s thigh. “No! Why did you—someone help me!”  
  
“It’s all right, Potter,” Tom whispered, holding him in his arms, waiting for his thrashing to lessen and his cries to die off. “Calm down, breathe for me.” Harry soon felt his resistance dwindle from the powerful tranquilizer running through his bloodstream. His knees buckled at the exact moment Tom swept him up and sat down on the floor.　  
  
“You feel better now?”  
  
“No,” mumbled Harry. The shock of the needle had set him off course. He tried desperately to remember what Draco had told him. He needed to relax. Everything would be fine if he just did what he was told and Draco would do the rest.  
  
Tom stroked his hair, a kindness he only dared when they were very alone together. “Sorry about the needle but this is the only way I can get you to listen to me. Please don’t push me away,” he said through a sigh. He drew Harry fully into his lap, resting the sleepy boy’s head on his shoulder. “I just adore you, Harry. I hate that we have to pretend to be enemies.”  
  
Harry trembled in his arms. “Pretend? You’re cruel,” he cried, feeling hot tears prickle at his eyes. “Those things you said about my parents. I never knew them. How could you do that to me in front of everyone?”  
  
“I didn’t mean to get so carried away. Sometimes I react before I think. I’m hotheaded like my father. But I can be kind, I swear it. I can do things　 _others_ 　can’t do for you,” he whispered. Slowly, with the most delicate of touches, Tom began unlacing the straitjacket. His competitive desire to prove to Harry that he could get in his knickers first compelled his actions.  
  
Harry took a deep breath, letting the tranquilizer calm his anxiety. He swallowed down the bitterness in his throat, the fire that pooled at the back of his tongue for Riddle. His eyes glazed over and his lips pursed in a kiss. “You want me?”

“Yes, very much so.”

“Then do it. Take me.”  
  
Tom removed the final lacing without looking up. His voice was flat. “I intend to.”  
  
“I want you inside me,” Harry whispered, arching to grind over the Head Boy’s lap.  
  
“I know you do, baby,” he breathed as quietly as he could. He flipped him onto his stomach and unbuckled the crotch strap, garnering a huge sigh of relief from the trapped boy. He tossed the straitjacket aside and Harry quickly found himself back in his lap.　  
  
He circled the larger boy’s neck and dropped his head down over his shoulder. His voice was soft and youthful. “Oh, my conquerer, please take me the way Draco never could. Show me how big you—”  
  
Tom covered his mouth with a kiss. He lingered against him, brushing his lips over the soft skin stained cherry-red from punch. “I fancy you so much. I want to make this last. I want to show you I’m better than Draco in every respect.”  
  
“Wait,” Harry said cautiously, laying his hand flat on Tom’s chest. “We’re just going to fuck, right? You’re not saying that you really fanc—” Another kiss silenced him. It was so warm and moist. Tom’s tongue wiggled in through his teeth, parting his lips and Harry melted in his arms.  


* * *

Tiptoeing out of his room, looking around every possible corner, Draco silently made his way toward the common room. He held his dressing gown closed as he neared the door. He peeked inside and found it empty. Slowly, he looked up toward the large red box mounted on the wall. With a smirk, he pulled the lever downward and plugged his ears.

* * *

Tom stood up, bringing Harry to his feet. The smaller boy found could not stand on his own anymore so he was supported up against the wall. “Put your arms around me,” he demanded. Their lips met once more, forceful and stimulating. There was something about the orders he gave him, something tantalising. Tom’s words were always aggressive and audacious but his hands were exceptionally gentle.

  
He felt his knickers slide down over his thighs and fall to the ground. Tom hefted him by the underarms, pressing his back into the sacking wall. “Wrap your legs around me,” he whispered against his cheek. His hands ran down his thighs, cupping him behind the knees to help them up.　  
  
“We’re really going to do this,” Harry murmured, growing warier of Draco’s plan. He knew he was probably in trouble, that he was going to have sex for the second time that day. But as if he had said nothing at all, Tom adjusted his erection accordingly, pressing it firmly against Harry’s backside.　  
  
“Been waiting for this, Potter,” he said through a wanton breath. “I’ll be gentle. I won’t hurt you.”  
  
Harry opened his mouth to protest, to not protest, to tell him to stop or to do it already and stop whinging. He wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted anymore, but the thought drifted away as the tranquilizer took full effect of his mind and muscles.  
  
Tom cringed. He gave Harry a few shakes to revive him. “This wasn’t exactly what I had planned.”

* * *

The fire alarm whirred loudly, stirring all of the boys from their beds out to the halls. Draco mingled in with his crowd, looking quite innocent and flushed from sleep. He then jaunted down the hall, straight to Snape’s office and banged on the door.

  
“I hear it! Everyone outside!” shouted Snape, pulling the ties to his dressing gown together. “Go on, Draco, off with you,” he ordered.  
  
“But Harry, sir, he’s trapped in the Quiet Room!” Draco bit down on his tongue to stop a fit of laughter from escaping his lips.　  
  
“Oh, yes,” said Snape, his hand fumbling with his keys, “I will get him. Go on, now. The building may very well be on fire.”  
  
Putting his back to the wall beside the office door, Draco exhaled a great breath. He stood solidly in wait for the impending scream.

* * *

Harry’s head lolled to the side, having no idea whether the alarm had been sounded yet. He didn’t have to worry about protesting. The older boy’s mouth was focused on his jaw, exploring the damp skin that was so delicious to feel against his lips. He was on the padded floor. Tom took his time with this exploration, assuming they had all night to do this. It was warm and soft all over. It was most definitely not scary, it was enjoyable.

The door flew open and a loud buzzing sound filled the room. Snape froze, his eyes nearly popped from his head. “Wha-?”

Despite the fact that Tom absolutely did not take a poke at the boy’s ‘virginity’, Harry, pushing away the guilt filling up his insides and spoke out as clearly as he could. “I’s notis fault, Professa,” he mumbled, feeling the boy against him tense, push up from the floor quickly back away. Snape ran to his side.

Tom’s breath caught in his throat. His head was shaking in disbelief. “I can explain.”

Ignoring him, Harry gave his best doe-eyed look to the Headmaster and continued. “He keeps sneakin’ in here ta have sex with me but I neva say no ta him. I always tellim ta have sex wit’ me. I’s not his fault ‘m so weak.”

“He- he had sex with you?” He looked the boy over and felt himself panic. “Have you been drugged?”

Harry’s head bobbled up and down. “Mutipa times.”  
  
“He did this to you- he took your precious virginity?” Severus stumbled back a step. He pulled Harry protectively close. His beady eyes focused on the other. “Go on, boy, gather your knickers, we have to go outside.”  
  
“You don’t actually believe him, do you? He’s a filthy fucking little liar!” he screamed, incensed. Severus held up a hand, refusing to look his way any longer. The blood drained from Tom’s face. “My father will hear about this! He is the majority stock holder of this school. He’s your boss!”  
  
Unfazed, Snape draped his robe over the victim and helped him get to the door. “I know what I saw. Your father will not be pleased when I inform him. Now get outside like I told you.”

  
The moment they stepped out onto the grounds, Snape waved the fair boy over to him. “Take care of him,” he said absently, “I have to be sure everyone made it out safely.”  
  
“I’ll get you both,” Tom mouthed back, then winced as Goyle wrenched him away. The all-clear was given to return to the school. Harry and Draco waved good-bye to him as he was dragged off to spend the next thirty nights in the Quiet Room.


	7. Visiting Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Voldemort makes his entrance and the boys are in for a hell of a surprise.

The strange air surrounding the school had stunned staff and students alike. The stale feeling of doom that once shrouded their daily routine like a thick fog had seemingly dissipated. Severus Snape’s normally sallow complexion was peculiarly aglow. His walk seemed looser, his clothing clean and fitting. Something had changed but no one was complaining.  
  
Therapy sessions had been cancelled all week. This was unheard of. It was as if the headmaster was allowing the boys to dream of things they should not be dreaming. He stopped putting that awful tasting salve on Harry’s thumb to thwart him from sucking it and had even allowed the boys to socialise in close quarters without supervision all weekend. It was a peculiar time indeed.　  
  
Draco and Harry gulped audibly as he strode up upon them, saying nothing as he witnessed their fingers clasped together. His thick hair was pulled back in a thong, his dark eyes danced with flirtation. “Good evening, boys,” he chimed, which for him to speak frankly was a rarity indeed, “Do I dare ask that all of your assignments have been completed and that you’ve studied very hard for your upcoming exams?”  
  
Harry yanked his hand back and hid it behind him. Draco stood doe-eyed and frozen in place.　  
  
“Is that a ‘yes’?”  
  
Draco gave a curt nod. Harry took a quick breath and blurted, “Uh huh, yes, sir.”  
  
“Wonderful,” said Snape, flashing a toothy grin. He pinched their cheeks and swatted their tails. “Well, off to bed with you two.”  
  
Without another word, both boys bolted off into the hallway toward their dormitory.  
  
“Aren’t they adorable?” Tom walked up behind the headmaster.  
  
Severus quivered, letting his eyes roll back into his head as Tom’s hand disappeared into the depths of his robes. The hallway seemed to darken just for them. “You should apologize to them. Make it up to them.”  
  
Tom giggled lightly against the older man’s throat. “Oh, you are a dirty old man.”  
  
“I am now,” moaned Snape.

* * *

“Point ‘em out. All of them.” Dudley Dursley smacked his fist in his palm, looking very similar to Crabbe and Goyle when they had cornered someone. His large, muscular frame quivered with hatred as he scanned over the tables in the dining hall. “I’m not leaving till someone’s bleeding.”

Harry tugged on his arm to return him to his seat. “It’s no big deal,” he whispered. “You’re causing a scene.”  
  
Draco was across the room from him, sitting between two very beautiful people who could not seem to fawn enough over him. He had a mountain of gifts piled up in front of him. He whispered something into his mother’s ear and jerked his head in Harry’s direction, tossing him a wink. The woman gave off a flattering smile and tipped her head to him. His father snarled.  
  
Ron was chatting with his large brood at the table next to them. He leaned back against Harry, pressing his shoulder into his arm. “This is my family. Everyone, this is my best mate, Harry,” he said. He smiled and gave a slight wave as they greeted him warmly.  
  
“It’s nice to meet you all. And this is my—”  
  
Petunia gripped his arm and pulled his attention back to their table. “Do they not have running water here?” she said rudely. Her eyes roamed over her nephew in disgust. “There is an odor. How often do you bathe?”  
  
“Ugh,” Harry groaned. She always had a way of spoiling things. “We shower at night before bed check, I swear.”　  
  
“Well, there are loads of boys who keep looking over here. Gonna have to kill ‘em all,” hissed Dudley.　He pointed at someone, who winced and ran out of the room.  
  
“Why did you not groom yourself? You knew we were coming all week,” commented Petunia. She gave Harry a few sniffs.  
  
Harry’s jaw dropped. “I washed my hair last night, Aunt Petunia.”  
  
The comfort factor in the room was less than zero. Along with his aunt and cousin sitting there badgering him on his school marks and hygiene, there was a man standing across the room burning holes into him with a lecherous stare. Harry couldn’t shake the odd sensation of being watched. He peeped up at him again, catching his eye. He looked a lot like Tom, except much less angelic. He looked...wicked, very very wicked. No matter how imposing Dudley’s presence was the man standing by the door commanded his attention. Harry felt a chill settle in the room. He hugged himself for warmth to cease a shiver coming forth.  
  
Petunia's face was scrunched up with disgust, as if she had a pair of Vernon's dirty socks shoved up her nose. She pinched her nephew's ear to get his attention. “You smell like you’ve been rolling around in a barn.”  
  
Harry shrugged. In actuality, he had rolled around in a barn – with Draco the night before in the stables. At least he had picked all of the straw from his hair before their families had arrived.

Petunia licked her fingers and began preening him. Very adept at keeping Harry in one spot, she grappled him around the middle to anchor him to her side while she did her damnedest to flatten some of the spikes jutting out of his hair. “This is useless. I’ll have to speak to your headmaster about getting your hair cut. It’s almost touching your shoulders now, you look like a girl,” she said snootily, pursing her thin lips into a slash.  
  
Dudley scowled at him and punched his arm in relevation. “I’ll bet that has a lot to do with your problem with keeping the boys from trying to get in your pants, Har. Get your hair cut off like mine.” He pointed to his ghastly buzzcut, grinning. "Yeah? It's good, yeah?"  
  
Harry gawked at him as he wriggled around to escape his aunt's spitty fingers. “Hardly anyone in the east wing wants to sleep with girls,” he mumbled, heaving a great sigh.  
  
Petunia hunkered down on her assault. She gripped Harry's jaw and licked the end of her handkerchief. Harry struggled to free himself but it was hapless. She scrubbed his face with it, licking it over and over every time it started to dry, until satisfied.  
  
There was a sudden, blinding flash of green. Startled, Harry cupped his face and winced. And then it was gone as if it had never happened - but the warmth of the room steadily grew. Once a cold chill, now Harry was sweating. He felt it trickle its way down the small of his back. He looked up, noting that glass of the strange man’s watch kept hitting the fluorescents from the ceiling, sending a pulsing beam of bright light into his eyes. Harry was very sure he was doing it on purpose. This man was quite evil, it was obvious.  
  
Feeling queasy and feverish, Harry stuck his thumb in his mouth as he leaned on his aunt for a bit of comfort. Petunia tugged his hand away from his mouth while Dudley punched his arm several times as he pointed at different boys in the room who looked too gay for his liking. “Is that one, Harry? How about that one? Eh, you there! You lookin’ at my cousin?”  
  
Theodore Nott looked up from the table he was seated at with wide eyes. Harry gasped, tugging fruitlessly at Dudley’s arm to stop taunting the seriously disturbed west wing boy. “Oh, no, no, no he’s a nut-”  
  
“I’ll look at him if I want to,” hissed Nott back at him, dragging his pointy fingernails along the grain of the table. “What are you gonna do about it, ugly?” His father laughed and slapped the boy on the back.  
  
“Dudders, sit,” ordered Petunia. Dudley immediately returned to his seat.  
  
Harry felt as if he might faint. “I need to hit the loo.” He got up too quickly, nearly tipping over from imbalance. The man by the door followed him with his eyes as he passed by, and a wretched grin curled up on his full lips.

* * *

Harry made his way to the lavatory as quickly as possible. His heart thumped hard in his chest, drowning out the eerie sound of footsteps trailing behind him. Blessedly, it was empty. He bent over a sink, splashing great amounts of cold water on his face. No plausible explanation could be given to his sudden bout of anxiety. He dearly wished Draco was around to calm him down.　

 _“Are you Harry Potter?”_  
  
He jumped with a start. At the door, blocking his path stood the man who had caused this. Harry wiped the excess water from his eyes and groped around on the sink for his glasses as the towering man crossed the room and stopped dead in front of him. His large hand reached over to the sink and snatched them up. “That is your name, is it not?”  
  
“Yes,” Harry said through uneven breath. He was sure his knees would buckle at any moment. This was certainly Tom’s father, the man who owned St. Brutus’s. The same man who hated homosexuality enough to torture the boys who refused to be normal.  
  
“A pleasure to meet you, young man; I am Lord Voldemort.” He held his hand out as a greeting and Harry hesitated for a second before deciding it best not to offend him. Voldemort snatched that too. His handshake was like a vice; long fingers crushed and swallowed his digits trapped within. 

To Harry’s horror, he did not let go.

"So, you're Lily's boy? Well look at you." The lord gave him a wicked smile, showing off all of his pearly white teeth while the boy unsuccessfully tried to tug his hand free from his strong grasp. “Hm, you’re younger than I imagined. I thought you’d be at least sixteen.”  
  
“I’m seventeen, sir,” Harry corrected him, feeling exceptionally tetchy. He was in no way smaller than an average seventeen year old. On the contrary, he was, in fact, somewhat taller than most of the boys his age. More than likely it was his baby face and childish mannerisms giving off the impression that he was someone much younger. Lord Voldemort seemed quite amused by this and Harry felt like a fool. His lip curled in a sneer. “We done here? I need to get back before my aunt leaves.”  
  
Instead of releasing him, Lord Voldemort tightened his grip and yanked him closer to look over him; no doubt inspecting him to be sure that he was not his real father. Aside from the same shade of black hair, they couldn’t have been more different. This man was the mirror image of his son, Tom; besides towering in height, he was chiselled and leanly muscled, broad shouldered, with a stature of stately elegance. He was also extremely handsome, far better looking than any man Harry had ever stood in the presence of before. He never felt more insecure in his life.　

He scowled at him as he attempted to tug his limb free with more force; digging his heels into the ground as he leaned back with all of his weight. “My hand, please. Let go of it.”  
  
“Tell me,” the lord said softly in a practiced voice that sounded similar to Draco’s when he was acting very snooty. “Help me out here, I'm trying to guess what you were sent here for, Potter. What brings you here to this school? Wait, don't say a word. Perhaps you're a trouble maker. Or you like to play naughty with other boys." He simpered at his own words for a moment before focusing back on the undeniably attractive lad trapped in his web. The angrier Harry grew the more the lord wanted to delay his release. A game was astir, and he loved playing these kinds of games. "So, which is it, kitten?"

"My name's not 'kitten'," Harry replied, snarling. "It's Harry, _sir._ "

Lord Voldemort's own bloated ego kept him from freeing the boy's hand. He cupped it with both of his, intrigued with this little orphan who was showing no signs of fear of him. This was definitely a first. He leaned forward, inching closer like a hungry serpent to stare at the boy while he denied him leaving. "Clearly, you're the latter. So, what am I going to do with you, hmm?" His grip on Harry remained. Voldemort's mind was racing with intrigue over this beautiful enigma standing before him. Harry was the most lovely boy the man had ever laid eyes on. He had hardly felt the urge to capture one before, but now that he had him he did not want to let him go. Something started to stir within his shrivelled heart...something wonderful.

"You are, admittedly, a very pretty boy, _kitten_. You're far too pretty for your own good. You probably don't even have a clue as to how to use this to your advantage yet, I'm guessing. I can see this might become a problem with the other queer boys, having you bunking with them every night. This asset gets you into loads of danger, doesn't it? The temptation to keep their hands off of you will be tested. My goodness.” He drew him into his embrace then, crushing their bodies together before Harry could back away.

Harry noted that despite being humiliated for this man's pleasure he smelled very nice. His eyes closed for a moment while he inhaled the scent of cologne mingling with his musk. "I can handle myself, sir."

"I doubt it." The heat from their forms being pressed up against the other began to smolder. Lord Voldemort could feel the boy quivering in his arms. This revelation made things a lot more interesting. “Oh, you’re trembling. Do I frighten you?” 

Harry tested his hold over him. He wasn’t going anywhere any time soon. He snorted hot air through his nostrils in response. “No, that's anger, I assure you. May I leave now?”  
  
Voldemort simpered, but did not let him go. “We’re not done yet.” Still crushing the boy in his embrace, he buried his fingers in that mass of messy black hair he felt the need to tame to coax Harry’s head back. He snapped his fingers in his face. “Up here, kitten. Look me in the eye.”

Harry’s large eyes locked with his and his breaths quickened to terse panting. He stood motionless while the man examined him closer, holding his breath for fear of saying something that might get him into very big trouble.

Voldemort took in the boy's features for a moment before coming to the conclusion that he and Potter were opposites. “You have your mother's eyes.” He sighed at this beautiful creature standing before him, while tracing the scar on his forehead with the tip of his finger. Satisfied he had done his utmost to dominate this meeting, he pinched Harry's cheek with a wink before his toothy smile reappeared. “And I can see that we are of no relation.” He stepped aside and motioned to the door.

Harry sprinted out of the room.

* * *

Dudley was waiting on him outside of the dining hall. He looked at him suspiciously as he approached. “You gonna tell me who’s been touching you or do I have to punch everyone in this room?” he said, grabbing Harry by the scruff of his neck. He turned him toward the hall and bent him bodily into the room. “Start pointing.”

There was no way in hell he was selling anyone out to his cousin. “I made it up, nothing’s happened,” he said quietly, desperate to not gain anyone’s attention. “I just wanted to come home.”  
  
_“Aren’t they adorable?”_ 　  
  
Both boys looked to their side. Lord Voldemort had returned. He was leaning a shoulder against the stone wall. Tom was now beside him snickering sycophantically. “And what are you two lovely boys up to?” Standing on his tiptoes, Tom whispered something into his father’s ear.  
  
“Nothing,” said Harry, wiggling around in Dudley’s grasp so he could run away.　  
  
“Who’re you?” Dudley asked the tall man, sneering. He tightened his arms around his cousin, nearly crushing him in his embrace while he tried to figure these two handsome men out. "You blokes trying to fuck my little Harry here? News flash: ain't gonna happen - find someone else to shag!"  
  
“Dud, shut up, let me go!” Harry whispered frantically.  
  
Lord Voldemort placed a hand in his jacket pocket and Harry was certain he was going to pull out a weapon of some sort and kill him. Instead, he held up a pair of rounded glasses just out of his reach. Dudley physically shook on place, sending a tremor through his cousin’s body. “Forget something, Potter?”

Dudley glared daggers at Harry, his fists balled at his sides. “You did it with him already? You were only gone for five minutes!”  
  
“I left them in the lav!” Harry cried as he took a swipe at the hovering spectacles. Tom was in stitches behind his father, clearly egging him on. Harry jerked his body away from Dudley and balled his fists up at his sides. “You know what— Keep them, see if I care,” he hissed, wanting to crawl into a hole and die as he stormed off toward his aunt back in the dining hall.  
  
“Where are your glasses?!” Petunia screeched, grabbing the boy up into his arms as to shield him from the other parents. He had a bad habit of losing them at bad times and Petunia would not soon let him forget. She hefted him up and half-dragged him through the room, passing Lord Voldemort and his son. Dudley was hot on their heels. Harry heard one of them mutter, “He lives with common folk,” under their breath, followed by a high-pitched cackle.  
  
“I’ve got them, mum,” said Dudley, holding them out for her to see. “He dropped them.”　  
  
Petunia straightened her back and turned to her son. “Oh, he did, eh?” Her vice-grip slackened. Harry pulled away and grabbed his glasses. He noticed that Lord Voldemort and his son were still watching them. Harry's chin was grabbed, forcing his head to the side to look into his aunt’s eyes. “We have to leave now. Vernon will be needing a ride home from work,” she said, glancing at her watch. She jammed her hand into her carpetbag purse. “Here’s some money. Don’t spend it all on sweets.” She thrust a few pounds into his hand and gripped his face again for a peck on the cheek.　  
  
Dudley slapped his cousin hard on the shoulder with a snarl curled on his lip. “Stay away from them,” he warned darkly, flicking his gaze at the two very tall men behind them. He pulled Harry into a tight hug before shoving him away and punching him good-bye. “They give me the creeps. I’m going to visit again after Halloween if mum will let me use the car. I sort of like it here. And you need me, Har.”  
  
“Good bye, Aunt Petunia. Good bye, Dudley,” Harry said with a wave, watching them walk off down the hall. He took a deep breath and turned to face the wicked duo – but they were gone.

* * *

Everyone was chatting noisily and showing off the gifts they’d received from their families in the east wing. Several west wingers hung back, mocking the other boys as they normally did during break time.　

Draco pulled Harry into his lap as he sat on the backroom couch, his hand plunging into his jeans the moment he got the chance. Harry arched and craned his neck to kiss him, tasting his wet tongue in desperate need to feel good. “Can we go somewhere?” he whispered into his mouth.  
  
Draco gave him a nod and stood them both up. He gripped his hand and pulled him out of the room, ignoring the jeers from Ernie and his friends.　  
  
Hoping no one would hit the dormitory anytime soon, they drudged inside and dropped down onto Draco’s bed. They hadn’t noticed that Tom was laying under his covers two beds away, fighting off the guilt he felt about embarrassing Harry in order to impress his father. They stripped each other down to nothing, limbs twisted up in their sheets as they sucked on the other’s tongues. “God, make me come,” begged Harry, “I’ve just had the worst day. Need it so bad.”  
  
Draco cooed. ”Absolutely. Part your thighs for me, show me that pretty prick.”  
  
Tom peeped from his duvet and cocked an eyebrow, watching Draco dip down between the coltish legs bent up on the bed. The sounds of sweet sucking and moaning filled his ears. Harry was dangling over the edge, lost in a state of bliss.　  
  
“I’ve decided what we’ll do after we graduate,” Draco said through a breath, “Mother is giving me the summer home to do with as I please. She never cared if I was gay, you know.” He dropped back between Harry’s thighs without a hitch, returning his attentions to the firm flesh trapped in his hand. He looked up again, waiting for Harry to respond. “So?”  
  
“M’kay, lovely,” mumbled Harry. His head bobbled over the side of the bed, riding the waves his lover was creating.　  
  
Draco popped back up, frowning. “That’s all you have to say?”  
  
“Mhmm,” hummed Harry, shoving the blonde’s head back down into the sticky apex of his thighs. “No time for talking.”  
  
Tom leaned in closer to hear them. He was very curious about what Draco was trying to elaborate.　  
  
“Do you understand what I’m telling you?”  
  
Harry sighed. “Could we talk after please?”  
  
“Yeah, okay,” said Draco. He proffered his tongue, dragging it from the base of his cock to the tip and then snorted in agitation. “Are you going to come, or what? I’ve been dying to talk to you about this.”  
  
Harry squeezed his thighs together, trapping Draco’s head between them. “So talk, prat,” he snapped. They thrashed around for a moment until the blond fell off the bed.  
  
Tom bit down on the ball of his hand to keep himself from laughing out loud. They were so utterly childish together, practically sharing the same brain whenever they got too close. It made the desire to be with them all that much stronger.　  
  
Draco crawled onto the bed like a tiger; snarling, baring his claws. He crouched over Harry possessively and inclined his head. “Tonight after bed check me, you and a lot of rope in the changing room. You are in trouble, pretty boy,” he said lowly.　  
  
Harry gulped and snapped his lips shut.　  
  
“That’s better,” said Draco in that snotty voice that he despised. “Now, as I was saying before, my mother gave me a house. Do you know what that means?”  
  
“Congratulations?” suggested Harry, unsure of why getting a home was so important. Malfoy obviously had more money than God, it only seemed natural he would have a house given to him when he graduated.　  
  
“It’s in the middle of nowhere, a day’s drive in any direction. We can live there forever after graduation. We’d be all alone to do whatever we wanted,” he gushed, nibbling his bottom lip.  
  
“We? You mean me?”  
  
“Yes, you. You’re coming with me.”  
  
Harry looked up at him in confusion. “But shouldn’t we go to university?”  
  
Draco laughed. “Why?”  
  
“Well…” Certainly, the thought of playing house and not finishing school sounded fun and exciting but how could it really be true? “So I can get a job.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
Harry felt tongue-tied. “Be-because I want one.”  
  
Again, Draco laughed. “Are you telling me you’d rather do common labour than live with me? I’ll take care of you, there’s no need to work.”  
  
“You think I’m too stupid to take care of myself?” Harry frowned as Draco pressed his body into his.  
  
“I think you talk too much,” Draco whispered. He coaxed his thighs apart and nuzzled between them. “Now give me that lovely ass of yours before the rest of the fools return. I want to fuck it.”

Harry wiggled around, pretending he wanted to flee. “No, you fucked it yesterday. It doesn’t want you to fuck it today.”  
  
Tom’s eyes grew large. They had had sex. Bastard Draco.  
  
There was a bit of prodding and a lot of spit. In no time the two found themselves in the throes of passion. It was almost painful for Tom to watch. He huddled beneath is duvet, dejected to pieces that he had lost their game. Perhaps Draco had stopped playing altogether. He lay focused on them, mesmerized by the throaty mewls Harry was shrieking with each thrust against him. It was beautiful. They were beautiful. Their contrast of pale to gold, white to black, green to grey complimented the other in such a way, as if it were conjured up for his pleasure. They truly were a pair, very loving together. They were probably meant to be.

* * *

The side of Harry’s face was smashed against his pillow. He snored loudly, his mouth hung open and a line of drool leaked onto the tan cotton casing of his pillow. His hand hung over the side; dainty, long fingers with every nail painfully chewed to the quick twitched every now and then. Tom watched him in awe; he was so awkwardly beautiful in his slumber.　He shifted through a moan, his hand rose up and his thumb slipped between his lips. Tom’s cock became engorged behind his knickers. Everyone was in bed now, settling in to sleep as the lights flickered once and dimmed down to darken the room. He could do it; swallow his pride and apologize to them for breaking into the Quiet Room and let them know he held no grudge over their cruel prank. It had garnered him a new and exciting lover after all.　

It took very little to get Snape to drop the façade of celibacy and embrace the darkness he so desperately needed to embrace. He was so wanton with lust, surrounded night and day by attractive boys dying to get into one another’s pants. It was merely a matter of time before someone intelligent enough realized how simple it would be to turn him on.　  
  
Within minutes, Draco was on his feet and at Harry’s bedside, looking over the room to be sure no one was watching. “Wake up,” he whispered, shaking the sleeping boy’s shoulder.　  
  
Tom had to act. “Hey,” he whispered, reaching and touching his thigh. Draco looked down, stunned. “I’m sorry. About everything.” He tipped his head with a soft smile and pleading eyes. Draco looked him over with hope. It was the old Tom he wanted to remember him as, the boy who took him under his wing and shagged him silly every night in the changing room just as he was now doing with Harry.　“Let me join you tonight. I’ve missed you so much.”  
  
“Only if Harry agrees,” Draco whispered back. That might be tricky. Harry was no fan of Tom’s anymore.　“He still really hates you a lot.”  
  
“Let me ask him. We’ll meet you in there,” Tom said in an undertone very familiar to Draco.　  
  
“All right,” the blond said, bending and kissing Harry’s cheek.　

As soon as he disappeared, Tom leaned in. “Wake up, baby,” Harry opened his eyes, feeling the sweet voice tickling his ear. He opened his mouth to scream, but Tom snapped his jaw shut. “None of that now. No more fighting, no more pranks. We— me, you and Draco are back together.”  
  
“Oh, just like that? Where is he?” Harry said lowly, looking at his empty bed. “What have you done with him?”  
  
Tom winced. “He’s waiting for us in the changing room.”

“I'm not falling for your shite anymore - bugger off.”

“Oh, Harry,” Tom whimpered, now certain he had really overstepped his boundaries and hurt the boy far more than he intended to. Biting his lip, he got down on his knees and took Harry’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Look, I am so sorry. I feel really bad about what I did. I mean it. No more games.” He sighed, his chin quivering. “It’s been bothering me all day, what I did this afternoon… the Quiet Room. Like you were some sort of prize, but you’re not. You’re a person who deserves to be treated with kindness. I see that now, and I care about you. I will never hurt your feelings again, I promise.” He raised Harry's delicate hand to his lips and kissed it.  
  
Harry sniffled as he tugged it free. He swept his thumb across his bottom lip, desperate to suck it. He had never heard Tom speak that way before, it was heartfelt and engaging. He wanted to forgive him. He bit down on the tip of his thumb and nodded. "Okay.”  
  
“Come here.” Tom brushed his hand away and kissed him. His lips so warm, his hands gentle, caressing his face with a touch like velvet. Harry moaned into his mouth as his arms encircled his neck. He was so eager to yield to him. “Shall we go?”

Harry sighed with relief and wrapped his limbs around him, allowing him to carry him off into the hallway.　

* * *

Tom lifted his shirt over his head and paused. The bench under his knee sent a jolt of pain through his thigh. He pulled his t-shirt back down and sneered. “I can’t do this in here one more time,” he said, shaking his head.

“Sure, go,” said Draco without looking up.　  
  
“That’s not what I meant.” He padded across the room in a pace, wondering if it might be too soon to reveal his secret to the two other boys. “I know a better place, a room with an enormous bed and fireplace and - fresh sweet cream at your fingertips. We could go there. There’s no risk at all, I promise.”  
  
Harry looked back with through narrowed eyes and Draco shook his head suspiciously. He sucked his teeth through a distrustful look. “Where is this?”  
  
Tom sat down on the bench beside Harry, putting an arm around his shoulder. “You’ve got to promise this stays between us. I don’t want anyone finding out.”  
  
“Is this a trick?”  
  
“No. I promise, no more pranks. No more games.”  
  
Draco shrugged. “Fine, tell us.”  
  
“We’d have to include someone else,” he said carefully, watching the boys’ expressions. “It’s in his chambers.”  
  
Harry growled. “Professor Black? I won’t go.”  
  
Tom snatched him up before he ran off. “That’s Draco’s Professor. I’ve got my own now.”

“Another teacher? Not Pettigrew,” worried Draco. No one could have been worse than Pettigrew.  
  
“Not Pettigrew; Snape.”

Both boys froze, hardly believing their ears. Slowly, an epiphany grew large on Draco’s face.　“I knew it! I knew something happened to make that bastard have a bath!” He slapped Tom’s knee and stood up. “Let’s go.”

* * *

“What is this?” Snape stood back, groping to close his dressing gown as the three boys entered his room. He looked out into the hall to be sure no one had seen them coming. “It’s a bit late, don’t you think?” He closed and locked the door, turning to them worriedly.　

Tom’s head swayed lightly. He gestured to Harry. “You really think it’s too late to enjoy something like this, Sev?”  
  
Harry, in turn, shuffled over next to Draco to whisper in his ear. “What if Snape is trying to trick us.”  
  
“Relax, I won’t let him touch you,” he whispered back, focused intently in the Headmaster’s direction. His expression was a mixture of excitement and loathe. He was rubbing his fingers together, looking villainous. “But I can’t let this opportunity slip away.”  
  
A sharp noise broke the awkward air in the room. Everyone turned to the cupboard door. “Who’s in there?” said Tom, padding over to it before Severus could stop him. Draco and Harry covered their gaping mouths as it opened and Ron fell out into the room.　  
  
He shrugged, looking over the three pyjama-clad boys. “Hey, mates,” he said, yanking his knickers up enough to shield his prominent erection. “I see we finally have something in common.”

* * *

Harry’s large eyes were blank. There was a noticeable absence of emotion that wrested the withered heartstrings of Tom’s tortured soul. “Don’t you like this?” he whispered, looking up at the boy with a knitted brow. “Just nod your head or something. C’mon, Potter.”

“I do, keep going,” Harry said finally, snapping from his trance. He sighed and fell back against the bedstead, gripping the wooden board over his head. He would not deny himself the delicious pleasure of heat that burned steadily through him. Tom’s tongue flickered up and down the length of his pretty sex while his hands cupped and kneaded his heart-shaped bottom. Tom’s strength astounded him, easily lifting him up to meet and aid in fucking his hot mouth. He gritted his teeth in a hiss, breaking eye contact with Draco for only a moment to watch himself come.　  
  
“Oh God, Tom, you look so hot doing that,” he moaned, watching him work his magic over his weeping cock before looking back up at Draco’s pale eyes. He arched hard into him, screaming through his surging release. His hair fell into his eyes as his head lolled forward, he slumped onto the bed in a quivering mass.　  
  
“Oh, I love your screams, Harry.” Draco blew him a kiss as he sunk deep into Severus’ wanton entrance. “Did you like it?” he mouthed at him between pants for breath. “Tom’s so good at head.”

Ron nuzzled beneath Snape, who was tonguing his hung balls and stroking his prick.

Harry had never seen anything more lovely than Draco while he fucked. He smiled brightly in excitement, compelling Draco to pose between thrusts to impress him. Harry adored Draco’s vanity, always encouraging its appearance.  
  
Harry ran his tongue slowly along his lips, fucking his beloved blondie with his mind from across the room. He was in Tom’s lap now, wiggling his pert ass over his enormous manhood. A warm length of velvet stretched across his face to capture his blurry vision. “No watching him anymore,” whispered the Head Boy into his ear. “You’re pretty body is mine now.”  
  
Tom was on his knees then, holding Harry around the waist so that he fit neatly in the curve of his form. They groaned as one, with Tom delving deeper into him with each gradual movement. He loved to fuck hard but he was soft, paced with a gentleness that he always found himself feeling when he was with Harry. And its feeling surpassed what he could only imagine. “Oh, Harry…baby,” he whispered, trembling with excitement and lust.  
  
Harry relaxed against Tom, letting him do all the work. He enjoyed being pampered. Tom was soft yet strong, making love to him while telling him all the things he wanted to hear. Harry relished in the special attention, blushing so prettily. He could hear the sounds of slapping against bared flesh, the agonised whimpers resonating from Snape’s subservient mouth. He felt the thumping rhythm of Ron’s body slamming against the floor as he shoved himself back between Severus’s lips over and over, whimpering, ordering him to suck it harder. “They’re not being very nice to your professor,” he whispered, feeling Tom shrug against him in response. That bothered him for a moment. They had professors to take care of them but no one had picked Harry yet. Maybe no one ever would.  
  
“Take-it-all!” panted Draco with disdain. He had absolutely zero love for the Headmaster and it showed. He stopped pumping into his ass, far too entranced with the beautiful boys slowly fucking on the bed. Neither Snape nor Ron seemed to notice.　  
  
Tom snapped his head up. “Get over here, Malfoy,” he demanded, “I want to tie him up and take turns fucking him.”  
  
Draco bit his bottom lip in enthusiasm. Harry was once more rock-hard, struggling in Tom’s arms and mewing to be dominated and taken again and again. He shoved Snape away, grabbed a bowl of sweet cream and pounced.  
  
Snape had flipped Ron onto his stomach, his face now nestled between his cheeks. No one heard the soft click of a video camera whirr to life. It was bolted to the ceiling in the corner of the room and as far as Snape knew the tiny red bulb had never lit up before.　  
  
Harry’s arms were stretched taut over his head, tied to the bedstead together at his wrists. The blindfold remained in place. He wriggled around, his senses stripped. The heat of two bodies could be felt on each of his sides. “Please,” he sobbed, dying to to be spoiled again. Tom and Draco leaned over him to comply.　  
  
His legs were stretched wide apart and bent at the knee. There were hands all over him, spreading thick dollops of sweet cream, massaging it deep between the cleft of his cheeks, taking his cock in hand and slathering it up and down. The things he wanted to shout at them stuck in his throat. Hot breath on his lips, a finger slipped between them, letting him taste and suck the sugary substance on his tongue. “Oh, yes, please,” he moaned.  
  
Shockingly, there was sudden pounding on the outer office door. Snape bolted upright, his face slick with saliva and come. It was then that it caught his eye; the tiny red light flashing from the corner ceiling. “Oh no,” he whimpered, falling face-first against the floor.　  
  
Ron hopped up and gathered his clothes from the cupboard. “Someone’s at the door!” he whispered urgently at the others.　  
  
Tom froze. His dark eyes grew large. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, we’re so dead,” he cried. “Get him up!”  
  
Draco threw Harry’s legs aside and dove over him to unbind his hands. “What’s going on? Just don’t answer it!”  
  
“You can’t just not answer it. He has a key.” Snape was weeping openly. His hands were pressed together in desperate prayer.

“It’s him,” said Tom, hiking his pyjamas up over his hips. “It’s my father.”  
  
“Holy shit! Oh my God, Tom, I can’t get this knot!” cried Draco, panicked, his trembling fingers still sticky.　  
  
Ron climbed back into the cupboard and waved at Tom. “Hurry up!”  
  
“Throw something over him and get in here!” hissed Tom as he beckoned Draco to get inside with them.  
  
The sound of the office door burst open. Shuffled footsteps and deep voices penetrated the bed chambers. Draco cringed and threw a duvet over Harry before diving into the cupboard.  
  
The knob to the chamber door jiggled and turned. Snape cloaked himself in his dressing gown and wiped his nose on the back of his hand as Lord Voldemort, Crabbe and Goyle stepped inside.  
  
Lord Voldemort stood like a giant over his headmaster, with his head in disappointed sway while he clucked his tongue. “And I had such high hopes for you. You’re will needs an adjustment, Severus,” he grumbled. He looked to the two orderlies and jerked his thumb at the quivering lump on the floor. “Cool him off, boys.”  
  
“No—No!” cried Snape, being carried off out of the room kicking and screaming.　  
  
Voldemort walked over to the cupboard and rapped on the door. “Out.”　  
  
Tom, Draco and Ron fell out into the room, all squirming and hunched over in his presence. “You three again? I thought we went through this last term. How many teachers do I have to sack, how many punishments must you endure before you boys learn obedience?”  
  
All three boys covered their faces in shame. Lord Voldemort was the true master of torture. He made Snape look like an overstuffed teddy bear.　  
  
His hand closed around Tom’s neck. “ _~Especially you~_ ,” he hissed in a tongue the other boys could not understand. He released his son to clasp his hands behind his back. “Get back to your dormitory. Return at the bell for your punishments.”

Draco, Tom and Ron looked back at the bed, frozen solid.

"You hard of hearing?" Lord Voldemort's lip twitched. “I said ‘Go’.”  
  
“But—”  
  
The man's eyes lit up blood red with anger. He pointed at the door while he bared his teeth. “Move it, before I kill all three of you.”  
  
They ran. Their hearts were trapped in their throats with guilt and fear, but they ran.

Once they were gone Lord Voldemort turned abruptly, his eyes still flashing red, locked on the bed. “And you,” he said softly, letting his indignation wane while crossing the room to rest on the edge. Gentle hands pulled the duvet back. He simpered at the delicious sugary-coated boy tied to the bed, blindfolded and trembling with something a lot less than the anger he displayed in the bathroom. Harry instantly opened his mouth with shock, or something that came close to imitating it. The lord nearly came in his trousers. He was certain Potter was unaware of what he was doing, making him want the boy even more. 

"Silence," Voldemort stated, seeing the boy open his mouth again to protest. He stuffed it with tissue and pressed Harry's jaw upward before he clamped his hand over his mouth to further restrict him.Taking in his unclothed state of helplessness, a brilliant idea came to mind. Harry was, and may aways would be, the guilty pleasure the lord had prayed to never come to be. Harry struggled just enough, but not too much in protest, letting him know that he could proceed. Potter was a minx, the first and true one to make this desperate attempt to stay straight a chore. 

“Lucky you, Mr Potter, today is your day, it seems. Let’s see how obedient you really are, see if you're worth being trained to be a good little boy instead of the active tart you appear to be...I will take charge of your discipline personally." He watched the boy's partially hidden expression defy him. Harry cringed as he tugged at his bonds, trying to escape. Lord Voldemort climbed on top of him, preventing the boy from that nonsense. He leaned close, with his mouth grazing against Harry's quivering lips. "And I have a very _large_ punishment in store for you.”


	8. When Will You Learn?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's punishments are brutal-ly amazing.

“The surveillance cameras were a real blessing, so to speak. I had this strange feeling there might be more going on here than I would allow. Everyone seemed just a bit too cheery for my liking. So, last night I checked the boys’ dormitory rooms in the east wing and low and behold there were four empty beds. I scan over all the surveillance monitors but the halls are empty. _*snap, snap*_ Head up, eyes here, good lad. Where was I?”

“The monitors. You, oh, I can’t catch my breath.”

“Oh, yes. Thank you. Anyway, we looked everywhere. The only camera I had not checked was the one bracketed on the wall behind me. Can you see it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“So then I thought to myself, ‘no, not Snape’. You can imagine my shock when I turned the camera on in his chambers. Right there, in black and white, an orgy of disobedient hooligans fucking my Headmaster and each other silly in my school.” High-pitched laughter filled the room, obscured with the sounds of heavy panting. “C’mon, boy, hold your legs up. I know you can do better than this.”  
  
“Sorry, sir. I’m all sweaty.” Harry could not understand why this was happening. He absolutely detested this man; he was condescending, hateful, too rough and despicable. His proper voice grated on him, he wore expensive cologne and hadn’t shaved all day. His hands were like spidery icicles against his flesh. His breath was annoyingly minty yet cigarette smoky, his lips too moist with lip balm. His foul words stung like scorpions. This man hated homosexuality to its core and did not hold back on reminding Harry of that throughout the night.

He had humiliated Harry beyond anything he had ever experienced; bathing him like a child to remove all of the sweet cream, being sure to get behind the ears. Tying him up and forcing him sit prettily in his lap while he watched something boring on the telly. He was a chain smoker, ignoring Harry’s annoyed coughing. He kissed really well and taunted him with threats of separating him from Draco for a week. None of that compared to his latest torment; he had given Harry the choice of a small list of select punishments to pick from in a very short amount of time.

He was pure evil.  
  
And yet Harry could not get enough of him.  
  
Harry’s lips parted in breathless gasping. Sweat trickled into his eyes. His long legs were wrapped around his captor’s torso while his still bound hands encircled his neck. “Fuck,” he cried between deep sweeps of the hot tongue invading his mouth. “Gonna-come-so-hard.” He bit down on Lord Voldemort’s shoulder— then froze as the unbelievable pleasure skyrocketing through his veins came to an abrupt halt.  
  
“What did I tell you? No completion for you yet.” The strictly-stern drawl of Lord Voldemort cut through his psyche like a knife. He had Harry up against the bedroom wall, with a hold of his chin to look him in the eye. “You’re being punished, remember?”　  
  
“Yes, sir. I’m so sorry.” This had gone on for far too long. Harry could barely hold himself up from the sheer frustration as well as exhaustion. “I’m really trying, sir.”  
  
He had had a choice of punishment, and thinking back on all of them now, the　 _‘hanging by his thumbs’_ 　and the　 _‘stretching-rack’_ 　did not sound as bad as　 _‘fucked up against the wall_ ’ any longer. He let his ankles unhinge so his legs fell limp. He dropped his head on the older man’s shoulder in defeat. “Someone please rescue me.”

Lord Voldemort shifted a hand and smacked his thigh. “Legs up, ankles locked.” He halted his wondrous manhandling on Harry until he complied. “You can do this. I know you can.” When Harry was all back in place, he slipped his hand back between them, grasping his victim’s tortured prick once more. “You will inform me immediately when you get close to orgasm again. If you come without permission I will have your desserts taken away for a solid week.”  
  
“Oh, ok. Yes, sir, I’ll keep that in mind.” Lord Voldemort was ruthless, a wretched person with no feelings for anyone but himself. His threats were frightening, and his stamina seemed endless. His cock was gigantic and filling, hitting his sweet spot with every bitter thrust of his hips. It took no time at all before poor Harry was screaming for mercy once more. “Please, oh fuck, I’m so weak, sir, gonna come.”  
  
Again, Voldemort stopped, taking a breather. He cupped the boy’s thighs with one hand and stroked his hair with the other. “Such a lovely thing. You look so much like your mother. It’s alright, I’m going to help you with this freakishness you inherited from her. Homosexuality is just a weakness, it is wicked and sinful. I can only take you so far in this journey and let you see the horror it can cause by not denying this wanton pleasure.”　  
  
Harry gasped. “This is supposed to teach me to hate it?!” he cried, before nipping hard on his captor’s shoulder again.　  
  
“Alright, I’ve had about enough of that.” Voldemort hefted Harry up and carried him over to the corner of the room, resting him down on the bed. “Get your back straight, hands on your knees, and look pretty for daddy. Don't fret, I’ll be right back.” He sauntered off; his exotic form glistened with sweat in the silvery moonlight shining through Snape’s bedroom window. He rifled through the wardrobe for a few minutes. “Me thinks you whine and bite a bit too much. Ah, here we go.”  
  
Harry blushed.　“I’m sorry, sir. It’s these bloody hormones. I can’t control myself.”  
  
"That's why I'm here, sweetheart." Lord Voldemort returned quickly and tapped his chin. “Open,” he ordered. The boy blinked and parted his lips while eyeballing the leather strap in his master’s hand. It looked somewhat like a weathered old dog collar. Lord Voldemort forced it between his teeth and buckled it at the nape of his neck. It cut deep into the corners of his mouth, making it impossible to fully close it or swallow. “Bite down on that instead of my shoulder. I want to hear you whimpering and moaning, not begging.” He lifted the exhausted boy back up, parted his thighs with a cold hand and pressed him back against the wall.　  
  
In a pained groan, Harry wrapped his legs around his waist and looped his wrists around his neck. Within seconds, he was engaged in another round of agonized discipline. Voldemort’s slick hand relentlessly caressed him and the pleasure was far greater than it had been before. He strenuously bucked back against each stroke. “Ahgaw, ahgaw,” he managed through the gag, his face contorted in agony, growing weaker by the second.　  
  
“Yesssss,” hissed his torturer with another powerful thrust. Warm saliva leaked from Harry’s bottom lip. Voldemort eagerly sipped it up. “You’re so exquisitely submissive, I’m really impressed. That’s right, just keep fucking my hand,” he instructed, his voice soft. “Cry out when you’re close.”  
  
Harry nodded, already knowing he was well past close. He groaned loudly as the compelling force of ecstasy began to rattle every inch of his body. He so desperately did not want to disappoint this vile beast and climax without permission. His legs cramped and his back was scraped raw from the ancient wallpaper digging into his flesh. Blessedly, Lord Voldemort did not stop his orgasm from peaking this time. Harry screamed as loud as he could, letting it tear from his throat while his body seized up and his hot juice splattered between them. He convulsed with dire euphoria wracking his every muscle. His eyes rolled back into his head and the world faded away.

* * *

“You all right?”

Harry opened his heavy eyelids. A shock of ginger hair came into blurry view. “Was it a dream?” he croaked, his voice hoarse and feeling very weak. He tried unsuccessfully to sit up. Every muscle in his body screamed in pain.  
  
“Don’t get up, rest. Lord Voldemort said you can stay in bed all day today,” said Ron, nudging Harry back against the mattress. So, it was not a dream at all. Ron, Draco And Tom were dressed and on their way to their own punishments. Harry cringed, letting his heart bleed out for them. As much as he wished he could do something or warn them he drifted back into blissful slumber the moment his head hit the pillow.

* * *

When he awoke again, Draco was asleep next to him. He looked like death warmed over; his wrists bruised, his eyes swelled shut and his lips puffy and raw. He was fast asleep, moaning through a dream and snuggling him into his shuddering body. He had obviously chosen　 _‘fucked up against the wall_ ’, too. Ron and Tom were still missing. And as he fell back into sleep, he hoped they were all right.

* * *

The barred windows were dark and the room dim. Harry sat up with Draco’s arms still locked around him. Ron was in his bed across the room, snoring soundly. Tom was still gone.　

“He didn’t get the choices we got,” whispered Draco. “Lord Voldemort's his father, so he’s stuck in the Quiet Room for a week.”  
  
“You’re awake!” Harry nuzzled back into Draco’s embrace and sighed contently. “He-he was awful. He made me—”  
  
“I know,” Draco interrupted him, “He took great pleasure in telling me all about your torture while he tortured me. And apparently he’s had sex with my mother, too. The bastard.” His legs shook like mad against Harry’s, he was not used to keeping them wrapped around anything, it seemed. “You think we had it bad? Ron picked thumb screws and changed his mind half-way through, so he got both.”  
  
Harry shuddered. “I wonder if Lord Voldemort’s had sex with Ron’s mum.”　  
  
Draco shrugged. “Probably,” he said and sighed. “We lost a whole weekend. He’s taken with you, Harry, said you were the cat’s meow. I wonder if he’ll pick you to be his boy.”  
  
“You mean like how Professor Black chose you and Snape chose Tom?”  
  
“Yes,” said Draco.  
  
Harry pretended to dislike the idea, but in truth it thrilled him. “I see. I certainly hope my punishment is over, at least.”  
  
“I’m not sure. He wants to see us tomorrow after classes. He said you fainted before he could tell you. It’s just you and me going this time. Ron got a bit lucky by picking the thumb screws, I guess.” He rubbed Harry’s arm for comfort. “Go back to sleep, I have a feeling we’re going to need all the rest we can get.”

* * *

“Where’s Professor Granger?” Harry sat in a daze, looking around the room for the one teacher he felt any sort of comfort with. He caught sight of Snape’s slouching form drudging around the room and frowned.

“Get your head out of the clouds.” Draco tapped the end of his pencil on the desk. “You haven’t even started your paper.”  
  
“Good afternoon,” Severus Snape was looming over them like a vampire again. He looked tired, dirty and greasy once more. His old posture had returned and he had rosary beads wrapped tightly around his hand. “Cedric, your therapy session is on schedule for three, directly after class. And you two boys have detention in the Authority Room after class until dinner. Your therapy sessions will be conducted by Lord Voldemort himself.”　  
  
Draco huffed his disbelief. “Oh, I thought therapy was suspended for the week!”  
  
“Good day, boys.” Snape walked away with a slight limp, leaving them to wonder what his punishment had been.  
  
“Oh hell, it can’t get any worse than this, can it?” Draco was beside himself. He rubbed his sore thighs unconsciously. Harry slumped in his seat.

* * *

As the hours flew by, Harry found himself staring at the clock, willing it to stop. It was nearly three and he hadn’t gotten in a smidge of work done. It wasn’t his fault; he could not stop thinking about Lord Voldemort and his impressive… presence. His thumb slipped between his lips, over his tongue. He sat in silence sucking and biting the flesh. Professors Snape was walking around the room to check on their progress. He would surely get more detentions if his homework was not complete. The footsteps drew close, forcing him back into reality. He looked down at his paper in horror. “I’m so screwed,” he whispered frantically, covering the work with shaky hands. He dropped his head on his desk and whimpered.  
  
Grabbing his pencil, Draco quickly erased the name on the top right corner of his paper and dropped it down in Harry’s at the exact moment Snape popped up behind them. “There you go, all corrected.” Harry sat up with a start, gaping down at his desk.  
  
“Very good, Mr. Potter. You’re improving,” the Headmaster said with a slight smile. He turned to Draco, the smile fading quickly. “And where is your work, Mr. Malfoy?”  
  
“Er…” He kicked the other boy under the table before he spoke. Harry shoved his thumb back in his mouth and bit down on it as hard as he could. “I’m sorry, sir. I fell asleep.”　  
  
A sinister grin slowly formed on the Headmaster’s visage, an expression that spoke volumes about his intentions. Clearly, there was a bit of antipathy after their only sexual encounter together. “You will continue your detentions with me for the remainder of the week. Every day after class and after dinner, Mr. Malfoy.”　He then reached into his pocket, producing a tube of ointment. Hastily, he unscrewed the cap and squeezed a pea-sized dollop of thick, brown glop onto his finger. Harry’s thumb was dislodged from his mouth, slathered with the vile substance and dropped onto the desk. “Do not wipe that off or you will join him. Good day, boys.”  
  
“Why did you do that? He’s going to kill you!” He stared hysterically at his thumb for a moment then popped his pinkie into his mouth instead.　  
  
“I did it for you,” Draco whispered.　  
  
Harry’s heart melted. If he could only hug or kiss him to show him how much that meant to him. “Oh,” he said in a swoon. “I really wish you wouldn’t have. I just love you so much.”  
  
Draco risked touching him, giving his thigh a squeeze. “I love you, too,” he whispered back through gritted teeth. “We’re going to get through this with Voldemort. I’ll take all of his punishment, okay?”  
  
“No, I will, you’ve done enough,” Harry corrected him. He didn’t want Voldemort touching Draco ever again. He didn’t want Draco touching Voldemort, either. “I can take it. Let me do this.”  
  
“No, I-”　  
  
The bell rang. It was three o’clock.

* * *

The Authority Room was a separate building hidden behind the school, far and cut off from any other part of the castle-like building by a thick forest of trees. It was nestled between the gardens and stables and the only entrance or exit was through a narrow and dark tunnel under the grounds.　

Draco had only been to the room once before to retrieve Tom two years back after a particularly nasty scandal involving their former English teacher, Professor Dumbledore. It was an awful time for Tom. His father forced the old professor to retire and his son to endure weeks of stringent punishments. He hadn’t been the same since.  
  
Lord Voldemort met them at the door and ushered them inside. The room was padded like the Quiet Room, but that was the only similarity. It was dark, dank, chains hung from the ceiling and cages lined the floor. There was a display rack of paddles and whips on one of the walls, and various forms of restraints on another.　It looked like a medieval torture chamber, very intimidating.  
  
Harry began backing out, but Voldemort caught him by the arm. “It’s all right. I’m not going to physically harm either of you. Step inside now— On your knees, facing the other. Sit.” He pointed to the floor in the centre of the room.　  
  
Draco eased Harry down to his level, keeping their hands clasped for comfort. Voldemort rested back in an overstuffed chair beside them. “Now, tell me why the two of you cannot control yourselves. What makes not being gay so difficult for you?”  
  
“Because we’re gay,” Harry blurted. He bit his lip to shut himself up.

Lord Voldemort flicked the back of his head. “I hear you two are quite an item. I saw you fondling each other in your study class.”　  
  
He was now watching them at all times, it seemed. Draco made a face. “Look, we’re madly in love and you can’t stop that. Why don’t you just leave us alone?”  
  
Lord Voldemort stood and gingerly coaxed the other boy to stand. “C’mere, boy.” A soft smile played on his lips, his eyes locked on Draco. “In love, you say?” He drew Harry into his arms and kissed him: long, soft kissing, loads of tongue swishing and light panting. He bent him back as their tongues caressed. Harry’s arms wrapped tightly around his neck while sweet mewing hummed in his throat. The kiss broke and attention focused back on the angry lad watching them. “Look how easily he takes to me, does whatever I ask.”

Draco growled.　

Piece by piece, Harry’s clothing fell to the floor. “Open your mouth for me, stick out your tongue. Such a good boy.” With his eyes glued on the white haired brat, Voldemort ran his own tongue over his bottom lip and pressed the tip against Harry’s. He gave it a flick, took it between his teeth, giving it a light tug. “Mine,” he hissed under his breath so only the boy in his arms could hear. When he was satisified he had made his point he released it. “Your detention’s over, Malfoy. Run along now.”

Draco froze.

Harry jerked his head at the door. “Do as he says.”

The Lord’s attention snapped back to the vision of near perfection in his arms. “So obedient.”

Draco stood up. He knew that Harry was complying to protect him but it hurt seeing him give himself so easily to that monster. “Do I have to come back after dinner, sir?”

Voldemort shook his head ‘no’ without looking up.

Swallowing his frustration and jealousy, the blond left the room, slamming the heavy door behind him.

* * *

Everything seemed back to the awfulness that was normal in the dining room during dinner. The chatter was kept to a minimum. Snape was looking particularly unkempt. Exhausted, Harry leaned on Draco for support, uncaring whether anyone saw him. His legs twitched with spasm after spasm.　The boy next to him was coaxing him to eat, shoving forkfuls of mash in his mouth. He looked at Tom, noting his torture etched into his expression. “You look terrible. Have you completed your detentions? Mine are over but Harry’s got to go back tonight.”

“You think you’ve got it bad? I get to spend the next six nights in a straitjacket listening to Snape read me scripture. They pipe in show tunes through the speaker,” said Tom bitterly. He sniffled back a sob. Draco and Harry reached under the table and patted his knees for comfort.

* * *

Tom and Draco were standing next to each other under one shower stall, Harry was across from them, letting the hot water assail him. The blond snorted hot air into the shower stream. Harry’s neck was covered in faded love bites. A tiny smile of satisfaction played on his visage. He was obviously deep in thought with closed eyes, not looking at either naked boy across from him. “I think he’s doing a bit more than punishing him now.”

“What do you mean?”

“You should have seen him kissing him. Like lovers.”

“Harry was kissing him back?”

“Like lovers, Riddle. Like, your father could steal him away from us.”

“Are you saying Harry enjoyed it?”

“Are you daft? Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“Well,” Tom cupped his hand around Draco’s ear. “I know a way to get rid of him. Been planning this for a while now,” he whispered. “The set up tonight couldn’t be better. We’ll use his own weapon against him. Then we blackmail him.”  
  
Draco threw his hands up and backed away a step. “I’m out. Your ideas are always stupid and always backfire.”  
  
“All I need to do is get into the control room and record what he’s doing with Harry tonight. I’ll try to seduce Snape again, maybe I can nick the keys.”

Draco looked worried. “I don’t know. I have a bad feeling about this.”

Tom frowned as he scanned over the boy across from him, still lost in a pleasant fantasy. “It’ll get my father out of here,” then paused and said lowly, “It’ll get him away from Harry.”

That’s all it took. Grey eyes lit up. “How can I help?”

* * *

Harry walked back through the eerie tunnel lit only by a thin string of tiny bulbs. He moved straight-backed and steady, toward the Authority Room.　The heavy door opened for him as he reached it. The Lord stood darkly before him. “Have you had a bath?” he asked, taking his hand, leading him inside.

“I have, sir.” His fingers moved up his shirt and he immediately began unbuttoning it.

Voldemort was slowly circling him. “And are you ready for your punishment?”

“I am, sir.”

He observed this pleasing behavior from the boy as he began undressing in front of him without fear, completely compliant.  
  
“You have a weakness for large cocks, do you not?” He walked over to the wall of devices and plucked something free. The boy was completely naked now. He was on his knees next to a chair, hands on his thighs, looking up at the man so nicely.

“I do, sir.”

“Chin up.” The tall man crouched down beside him and held out a pink collar with the word ‘pet’ spelled across the front in rhinestone rivets. Harry smiled and bent his neck back and then forward, allowing it to be buckled in place. Voldemort went back to the wall and returned, bending the boy’s arms behind him. With meticulous workmanship, he wound rope around his elbows to fasten them together. He repeated the process on his thin wrists, cinching them tight. He took his time, neatly weaving more rope about his torso, knotting it in spots, anchoring his arms to his back.

It was tight, the knots painfully dug into his skin. It hurt, but it also felt strangely arousing.

Lord Voldemort stepped back to admire his work. It looked even nicer than he had imagined. “Beautiful.”

The camera on the wall stirred to life.

Wasting no time, Voldemort pulled the chair around in front of Harry and sat down. He unzipped his slacks. “I’m going to fuck your little mouth with my enormous prick and you are not going to complain. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir. No complaining.” Harry’s eyes grew like saucers. He had felt its girth the night before but now it was displayed before him - and it was breathtaking. His mouth began to water. He opened it wide and leaned in.

“Ah ah,” Voldemort said, stopping his impatience with a hand. The other was trailing up and down his hardness. It was mesmerizing. “You will do as I say. Watch my hand, start with the head, work your way down with your tongue. I want you looking at me, never break eye contact. Do this until I tell you different. Am I understood?”

Harry nodded eagerly. “Yes, sir.”

The hand on his forehead fell away to grip the arm of the chair. “You may begin.”

* * *

Draco gnawed on his fingernail watching Harry skillfully bobbing around the old bastard’s prick. He tried to will the camera to move so he could see the expression on his lover’s face. He was terribly jealous and painfully aroused.

There was a rap on the door to the control room before it opened. Tom stepped inside.

“Do you have enough? We need to go before we’re caught.”

With a nod but not wanting to leave just yet, Draco popped a video tape out of the recorder and shoved it in his trousers. “Yeah, I got it.”

* * *

Harry teetered on his knees, ignoring the pain in his arms being pinned behind him or from the tight ropes cutting into his flesh, making it hard to breathe. His knees wobbled, his thigh muscles trembled and threatened to give out. He never complained. He did his best to stay upright, only stumbling twice, bringing Lord Voldemort close to orgasm.

The man in front of him held the boy by between his knees to steady him. His climax began to swell within. He took Harry by the chin. “Now, my pretty pet, don’t spill a drop,” he commanded softly. His fingers threaded into inky black hair, coaxing the boy to return to his duties. And as he came, he reminded him again through a groan. “Not a single drop.”

Ah, the lovely noises Harry made as he licked and sucked, taking every single drop of semen from his master’s possession. “Yes, very good,” he said breathlessly. He collapsed into his chair to recover, still holding Harry up between his thighs. Finally, his breaths steadied. He adjusted himself back into his trousers and stood up, bringing Harry with him to his feet. His thin fingers ghosted over an ornate knife resting on the end table by the chair.

Harry flinched.

“Relax,” he was told and petted. The knife was in the man’s hand, the metal glinting off the lights. “I’m going to cut you loose, try not to move around too much.” Again, Harry gave him a nod and drew in as deep a breath as the bindings would allow. Pleased, the man smiled and began to cut through the ropes.

The cold steel against his burning flesh was inviting. Harry stayed as still as possible until he was free. And only then did his muscles stop working. Arms and legs shuddered and his head lolled to his shoulder.

“You’re exhausted,” Voldemort said as he unbuckled the collar and dropped it on the floor. No longer his pet,Harry was lifted into his arms like a bride. He carried him to the bedroom in the back of the Authority Room and laid him down on a large four poster against the back wall. “We’ll stay here tonight. I can’t risk someone seeing us if I took you back to the dorms.”

Barely conscious, Harry gave the man the best nod that he could.

The lights went out and the man returned to the side of the bed, easing himself under the sheets. He didn’t touch him, he stayed on the other edge. “You’ve completed your punishments. You’ve done very well. Get some rest,” he said in a sleepy voice.

Harry closed his eyes, smiling, so content that he had pleased him. He fell asleep, dreaming that Lord Voldemort had picked him to be his boy.


	9. Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Normally a silly children's holiday, the poor sods at St Brutus's relish in the celebration. Unfortunately for Harry, Tom and Draco have gone and screwed everything up. Again. Really badly.

Halloween was a holiday normally celebrated by young children. To teenaged boys in normal schools who were not hopeless cases, it was just a silly day. But to the boys in St. Brutus’s it was a fantastical event to look forward to.　

Without a hitch, Severus Snape directed Crabbe on the decorations he was hanging up on the ceiling. A great party was set to take place the following eve, a costumed gathering that lasted until the wee hours of the morning. Classes were always cancelled the following day if it happened to fall within the week. It was Snape’s all-time favourite holiday. Most of the boys speculated that it was because he was probably a vampire or some other dark, gloomy creature disguised as a terrible Headmaster.  
  
“That’s all wrong, you ninny! The skeletons must be able to properly jiggle. Over here me thinks, by the windows.” As if the depressing dining hall was not depressing enough, it now looked downright scary. Cobwebs and filmy ghosts bobbed in the breeze through the open windows. All of the fluorescents had been replaced with black lights, the floor was covered with thatched felt and the tables clothed with blood-red cello. Little tombstones stuck up from the ground, a coffin was perched in the back corner.　  
  
Lord Voldemort rolled his eyes to the ceiling and left the room, but not before slapping his agitated son on the back. He grinned as Tom turned around to glare back at him, undeterred by the boy's fresh bout of teen aged angst directed at him. Having found renewed interest in life other than being awful, the lord could not help but exude enthusiasm.  “Don’t stay up too late. Big day tomorrow, Tom.”  
  
“Kiss my arse, you prick. Just fucking die already so I can have all your money,” Tom whispered under his breath. His hands were clenched at his sides as he watched the older version of himself walk away with a skip in his step.　  
  
Snape waltzed up to the brooding boy. He was covered in orange tinsel. “Buck up, child. He’ll be gone by tomorrow’s eve.” He glanced up at the dormant surveillance camera and smirked, letting his hand roam across the globes of the boy’s taut buttocks. “And then things will go back as they were.”  
  
“No,” Tom snapped, incensed, knowing his father was going to snatch Harry away from Draco and he. “He’s a right bastard. Things will never be the same.”

* * *

It was late in the evening but no one thought about sleep. Draco hopped around in his seat in the common room, itching for tomorrow to arrive. The annual trip to Hogsmeade was scheduled for the first half of the day. Shopping and fresh air was to be had by all. “Oh, I’m just dying,” he groaned, feigning dizziness. He dropped into Harry’s lap with the back of his arm draped across his forehead. “Need. To. Spend.”

Harry was slightly less enthusiastic about it. He was not a wealthy boy from a wealthy family. He had a trust fund, yes, but he could not touch it until his eighteenth birthday. He lived off of a few pounds a week sent by his auntie to cover any sweets and toiletries he needed but that was it. The Dursleys had scrimped and saved to put him and Dudley into private schools, stretching their expense account very thin. “Yeah, it’ll be great.”  
  
Ron looked at him from across the table knowingly. His family was very poor. He had been forced into this horrid place by his great Auntie Muriel, a rich relative intent on curing his homosexuality. “Blimey, Har, I reckon there are loads of things for us to do there besides blow all our money,” he said, tossing Draco a sneer. “Not everyone likes to shop.”  
  
Teddy Nott coughed loudly in his hand, but the word “commoner” certainly came out clear enough through the hack. Ron tossed him a rude gesture in response.　  
  
Draco wiggled around in Harry’s lap to get his attention. “What are you going to wear to the party?”  
  
A costume was not a must, but it was encouraged. Harry had no pocket money to purchase anything resembling a costume. “Nothing special. Halloween is for children.”  
  
Draco gasped. “What? You have to! We always dress up, that’s the best part!”  
  
“No, I don’t think so,” Harry repeated, shaking his head. He looked down at his hand-me-down jeans and t-shirt thinking they were costume-like enough. Adding more humiliation into the mix would simply shrink him farther into the rut he had found himself in all day long.　  
  
In aggravation, Draco thumped the back of his head against the boy’s lap, making him wince. “Well, I’m buying you a costume and anything else I think you need. And you will shut up and accept them and shut up.” The blond would be wearing the uniform he and Tom were ordered to wear that eve, instead of a normal costume and it had bummed him out. He would have his fun picking something out for Harry, though.  
  
Harry looked away. He hated feeling like a charity case all of the time. Draco’s family was famously rich, very much like Tom and his father. Almost all of the other boys in the school were substantially well off. He, Ron and Neville seemed to be the only exceptions. “I don’t want you to buy me anything. I’ve got everything I need,” he whispered, grazing the back of his hand over other boy’s cheek.  
  
“Well, spoilsport, I know something that will cheer you up.” Draco pulled Harry’s head down closer to whisper into his ear. “There’s this cellar under Honeydukes sweet shop. It’s always empty. I plan on fucking your brains out down there before the trip’s over.”　  
  
Giggling, Harry nodded. “Sounds lovely, doll.” He had a reason to go now at least.

Overhearing their plans, Oliver Wood nudged his dorm mate, Roger Davies.　  
  
Also hearing his plans, Neville sighed heavily. “We were going to use the cellar.”  
  
“Shut up,” hissed Draco. “Find someplace else.”  
  
“Oh, we can share. It’s not like I haven’t seen your dirty bits before,” added Cedric.  
  
“Or touched them!”

“That’s disgusting!” shouted Ernie McMillan, plugging his ears.

“The cellar’s the best place. It’s so noisy on the main floor no one can hear you down there.”

Cormac McLaggen, Viktor Krum and Cassius Warrington were all ears.

Draco began growling low in his throat as he sat up and pulled Harry into his lap. “You keep your dirty hands off of my boy.”　  
  
Cedric snaked out his tongue and swiped it up over his teeth. “That’s for him to decide. We’ll see you tomorrow in Hogsmeade, you two.” he said, grabbing Neville’s hand and yanking him from his seat.  
  
Blaise rested his head on Ron’s shoulder, weak with exhaustion. “We really should get some sleep, don’t you think?”  
  
Ron blushed. “So we have enough energy for Honeydukes cellar tomorrow?”  
  
Blaise nodded appreciatively. “I love how you think like me.”  
  
“Jeez, is everyone going to be in the cellar tomorrow?” cried Draco, throwing his hand up dejectedly.　  
  
“What’s in the cellar?”  
  
The remaining boys turned to look at Tom, who had quietly entered the room. He sat down beside Draco and pulled Harry out of his lap. He stroked him like a cat, his eyes narrow, his lip curled in a sneer. His smoldering fury calmed through his affection. “Did you miss me?”  
  
Harry snuggled into his lap. “Yeah, glad you’re back. I felt so bad for you.”  
  
Tom threw an arm around Draco’s shoulder, pulling him in to his side. “So am I invited to this cellar, too?”  
  
“Of course you are,” they said together.　  
  
He was in a terrible mood. “My father is chaperoning at Hogsmeade, I want to stay as far away from him as possible.”  
  
Sirius Black sauntered into the room, his eyes scanning the crowd. Tom pushed Harry onto the floor, praying he hadn’t seen them touching. “What are you boys up to? Bed check in five minutes,” he said, leering.  
  
“Yes, sir,” everyone said, getting to their feet.　  
  
The teacher watched them file out and grabbed Draco’s arm as he passed. “A word please.”  
  
Harry gave him a dirty look and drew in a sharp breath but Tom clamped a hand over his mouth and dragged him into the changing room. “Just let it go, okay? Being a Professor’s boy has nothing to do with love. It has everything to do with blood status and owing other families favors and a whole lot of other things we will never understand. It’s probably illegal but these men make the rules. My father allows this only because it keeps his minions loyal. I promise you that Draco is thinking about you, never about Black. Okay?”

“If he’s so against being with other men why would he allow it?”

Tom sighed. “That’s why he created this school. He was hoping to disrupt the cycle of any new recruits because he stupidly believes we’re all choosing to do this.”

Harry sighed. “Alright, I won’t let it bother me anymore.” He took Tom’s hand, clasping their fingers tightly. “Let’s go. Big day tomorrow and all that.”

Kissing him on the cheek, Tom pulled him along. “Right, it’s going to be grand.”

* * *

The train to Hogsmeade stopped and several boys climbed out and ran off, ignoring Snape’s shouts to stay together. Draco and Tom pulled Harry along between them.

“I think Zonkos first,” said Tom, pointing through the busy street. “Good place to get our costumes, if you know what I mean.”

He nodded, frowning.  
  
Harry sighed.　  
  
“Oh, come on,” griped Draco, giving him a push.  
  
The joke shop was filled to the brim with customers, mostly Brutus’s boys. The noise level had exceeded the sound barrier and Harry quickly found himself separated from his two companions in the mass - and didn’t care one bit. He wandered back to the front of the store and slipped away without notice.  
  
Tom looked over the racks opposite of Draco. They knew what they had to get. Both seemed overly unhappy about the costumes they were being forced to wear. Pushing and shoving other boys away, they made their selections quickly and wandered off to purchase them.　

Other boys from St Brutus’s were clamouring around same the select racks, grabbing the specific garments they were told to purchase.  
  
Bags in hand, Draco gripped Tom’s arm. “Where’s Harry?”  
  
“I don’t know. I thought he was with you.” He looked around the store, his height a great advantage. “He’s not here.”  
  
“How could he be with me if I’ve been with you, twit? Anyhow, I bought him something,” said Draco, grinning cheekily.  
  
Tom sneered. “Is that so,” he said, hiding his bags behind his back. “Well, I’m sure he’ll gladly accept it. He always seems so happy when you flaunt all of your money at him.”  
  
Draco pinched his arm. “Do shut up. Let’s go find him.”

* * *

“House hunting for an upgrade, Weasley?” Teddy and Ernie snickered evilly.　

Harry and Ron turned around to see what the two boys were talking about. The Shrieking Shack, an old abandoned haunted house, stood in shambles in the backdrop. The ginger haired boy rolled his eyes and gripped his friend’s arm before he said something nasty. “They aren’t worth getting punished over, mate,” he said loudly. “Just pity them. Being completely foul and nutters isn’t their fault, or so I’ve heard. It’s all that inbreeding they do so they can keep their money in the family.”  
  
Harry turned back to laugh openly in their faces.　  
  
Teddy huffed. “What did you say, you filthy shirt-lifter?”  
  
“Are you hard of hearing, too? I said you’re foul,” Ron repeated.  
  
“You and Fairy Potter better watch where you’re going,” warned Ernie, glaring at them. “I don’t see your boyfriends around to keep your faces pretty this time.”  
  
Ron held his hands up, beckoning them over. “I don’t need anyone to protect me. You want to have a go?”  
  
“No, stop,” ordered Harry, tugging at his sleeve. Teddy and Ernie closed in on them, pushing them back toward the gated fence surrounding the decrepit old house. “Leave us alone or I’ll tell Snape you’re stalking us again.”  
  
“Oh, the little tart looks like he might cry,” egged Teddy.　He twisted his hands in circles over his eyes to mock him. “Gonna cry for me, _baby_?”  
  
Harry smirked. “It’s your face that makes me want to cry, actually.”  
  
“Is that so?” Teddy nudged Ernie in the ribs and whispered, “You take the big one.” With a nod, they pounced. Ernie tackled Ron quickly, knocking them both to the ground. Teddy shoved hard, thrusting Harry back into the fence. He caught him up before he fell and twisted his arm painfully behind his back. “What are you going to do now, Fairy?”　  
  
“Fuck off!” Harry cried, and then started laughing very loudly as he caught sight of Ron pummeling the hell out of Ernie. Teddy paled behind him, loosening his grip, making it very easy for the smaller boy to break free and shove him into the fence. Both he and Ernie were on the ground rolling around, groaning in pain.　  
  
Ron stood beside Harry wiping the dirt from his clothes. “How embarrassing. You just got thumped by two poor, common-little ponces,” he said, smirking. He threw his arm around Harry’s shoulder and walked them off, leaving the ugly bullies to their shame.  
  
“Hey, you two!”

They turned around, seeing Oliver Wood and Roger Davies run over to greet them.  
  
“That was some show you two put on,” Roger said. He and his friend were two older east winger boys from the opposite dormitory that met up with them on the path. They stepped up to their sides and smiled. “You were really brave, Ron. You too, Harry.” 　  
  
“They deserved everything they got,” added Oliver. Both boys were exceptionally cute and tall and seemingly interested in getting more acquainted with them. Roger was on Ron’s side while Oliver took next to Harry. “We were wondering if you’d like to join us for a cocoa at Madam Puddifoot’s.”  
  
It seemed innocent enough. Ron looked at his watch. They had some time before they were supposed to meet Blaise and Draco under Honeydukes. He shrugged and nodded. “Sure, lead on.”  
  
“What’s Madam Puddifoot’s?” asked Harry.　  
  
“It’s just a tea shop. You’ll like it. I’ll buy you a cocoa,” said Oliver. Their arms were suddenly intertwined. He pulled him aside, apart from Ron. “C’mon, let’s walk this way.”

* * *

“So, you and Draco are seeing each other?” Oliver ducked down under the gaudy cherub decorations dangling over their table. He took a seat and handed Harry a teacup.　

“Cheers,” said Harry. “Yeah, we’re in love.”  
  
Oliver frowned as Harry sipped at his cocoa. “Oh, I see. But you haven’t known him for very long, how can you be sure?”  
  
Harry stopped and looked up at the ceiling. He hadn’t really thought about it before. “I don’t know, just a feeling, I suppose. I-” He trailed off to spit out a mouthful of pink confetti that had been thrown in his and Oliver’s faces. Madam Puddifoot sauntered away, basket full of tiny pink heart-shaped crape draped on her arm.　  
  
He glanced around the small café. All of the other tables were filled with couples holding hands and kissing. Roger was groping at Ron under the table but Ron wasn’t having it. “Okay, ma-”  
  
Oliver dusted some confetti off of Harry’s hand and held it tightly under his, catching Harry off guard. He leaned in, his fascinating eyes centred on his face. “You were saying?”  
  
“About Draco? Oh, well, he makes me happy. I love everything about him. His lips, his eyes, his hair, his huge prick. Everything,” he said thoughtfully. He took another sip of his cocoa and set the cup down.　  
  
Oliver tipped his head. “But those are all physical things. What do you like about his mannerisms? Do you have any common interests?”  
  
“Oh, well, yes, of course we do. He can be ni… no, er, he likes… I mean to say his hobbies are… um… well let’s see. Give me a moment. I recall him saying he… something about sports. Deadly clever. He’s so... Oh, I’ve got it! He is very good at sucking dick,” he blurted. Every eye in the room was now on him. Harry ignored them.  
  
“Pleasuring someone orally does not qualify as a mannerism,” stated Oliver.  
  
“It’s certainly an interest that we share,” Harry replied, clarifying his response. “Honestly, he’s a pro.”  
  
_“Mr. Weasley, Mr. Davies, get back to the train this instant.”_

The air inside the cafe rose up several degrees in an instant, and seemingly all movement stopped. Harry jumped and turned around to see what had caused this. He froze when his eyes landed on the most beautiful creature in the world; Lord Voldemort. The crime lord was standing in the doorway of the tiny café, and he was glaring at him despite the heated words he was spitting at Ronald and Roger. Harry yanked his hand away from Oliver’s grasp and shoved it in his lap. Ron and Roger got up quickly and darted past the man. The room filled with an fiery heat and grew deadly silent.

“I cannot believe I walked into seeing you two getting off on each other. Displaying that sort of behaviour in a public place is breaking the rules. Separate carriages, you two." Voldemort then inclined his head, letting the trembling pretty boy sitting in front of him know that he was now going to scold him. A snarl curled his lip as his dark eyes centred on the hand that had only just been pulled away from Wood's. "And you, Potter. You had better be at my side by the count of three." He held up a hand in front of him, flicking his thumb upward. "One-”  
  
Madam Puddifoot tossed a great handful of confetti at the tall gorgeous Lord. The tiny papers seemed to smoke and turned to ash around him. He was still looking at Harry through narrowed red eyes as he thrust his index finger up. "Two."

Harry got up and waved a curt ‘good-bye’ to his new acquaintance, Oliver. Voldemort took the boy's hand in his and dragged him from the café.

* * *

“I would have put you on the train, too, if it was your hand on top of his. Nevertheless, I don’t want to see other boys touching you. I don't like it...” Lord Voldemort clipped Harry under the chin with a knuckle as they walked. The boy had his head down and his hands in his pockets. Voldemort paused, giving the boy a knowing smirk as he stopped him from moving onward. “They're perverts, all of them. They take advantage of your naivety.” His dark eyes narrowed as they centred on a welt forming under the boy's left eye. He reached up to touch it. "What happened here?" he asked Harry as the pads of his fingertips ghosted along the reddened flesh. "Did someone hit you? Did...did Tom do this?"

Harry, confused, reached up himself and touched it. He winced as a jolt of pain resonated through his cheek. "Oh, that," he replied, as he stuffed his hands under his arms, "No, no one did that; it happened getting off the train. I didn't have my glasses on, bumped into a wall." That was a lie, of course. Certainly, this happened during the scuffle between Teddy Nott and he a short while back, but he was no snitch.

Accepting of that answer, Lord Voldemort shrugged before nudging Harry to start moving again. "Try not to remove your glasses while entering unfamiliar territory, dear," he replied with a snicker. 

The humiliated boy walking beside him blushed pink. The wind swept through his hair and clothing as a great chilly front came up from the south. He shivered through it, tensing his muscles to trap the heat under his arms.  
  
This had not escaped the Lord’s notice. “Don’t you have anything warmer to wear?” Voldemort was staring at him out of the corner of his eye. “If your family is having financial troubles with the cost of tuition and supplies, I’d be more than happy to-”  
  
“I have a jacket,” Harry snapped, stopping the charity speech before he died of embarrassment. It was then that he caught sight of a portion of a bright red tattoo poking out from beneath the lord’s rolled up shirt sleeve. He tore his eyes away and looked back up only after Voldemort cleared his throat. “Sorry, sir. I just forgot it. My uncle has a fine job; it’s just been difficult because I got expelled. It’s my fault.” He felt awful about that, losing his tuition at Smeltings less than a month into the term.　He glanced at the tattoo as they walked. Every sway of the Lord’s arm tugged at the shirt, teasing Harry into discovering its shape.  
  
“I see,” said Voldemort. He pointed at a shoppe with his left hand. The end portion of the tattoo quickly came into view. It looked like the head of a snake. “But leaving it at school does you no good now. Why don’t you let me take you to Gladrags and get you a warmer shirt. It’s right across the way-”  
  
“No thank you, sir,” Harry replied, cringing inside. He was fretting to suck his thumb or curl up into a ball and disappear. He hated Hogsmeade and all of these rich snobs who looked down on him with pity.　  
  
As if he could read his mind, Voldemort laughed heartily. “I’m not thinking of it as charity, Mr Potter; you’re shivering. We’re going to be here for three more hours, I’m only thinking of the doctor’s bills I’ll be paying if you were to get sick.”　  
  
Harry gave a nod. “I’ll be fine.”  
  
“There you are, been looking everywhere.” Draco ran up alongside Harry. “I hope he hadn’t caused any trouble, sir,” he said snootily to the older man.  
  
Voldemort placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “No, no trouble at all. Have fun, boys,” he said, and turned around to walk off.  
  
“Oh, get a grip,” Harry said before Draco could chastise him.　  
  
Draco pouted. “I didn’t say anything yet.”  
  
Harry didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He dropped his head on Draco’s shoulder, realising how much he had missed him. “When are we going to Honeydukes?”  
  
“Oh! I’d think now,” he said happily.　

* * *

The cellar was dark. The sounds of slapping flesh and gentle sucking tickled their ears. Draco covered his mouth in astonishment. The room sounded as if it were jam-packed with couples from the east wing.　

“There you are, Potter - you’re late!”  
  
“Who said that?” Draco asked, frowning. He groped along the wall toward the voice. It was one he was not familiar with. Harry had recognised it, though.  
  
“Oliver?”  
  
“You said you’d be here at half past.”  
  
“Shut up, idiot! You’re going to get us caught!” another voice whispered.  
  
“Who the hell is Oliver?” asked Draco. “You mean Wood from dorm eight?”  
  
“Who the hell are you asking who I am?”  
  
“Er, I’m Harry’s boyfriend, that’s who. And you are asking him why he’s late because…?”  
  
“Oh, he never mentioned a boyfriend, only to meet him here for a shag and a tug.”  
  
“That’s a lie!” Harry flew into the room, trembling. “I didn’t say that!”  
  
“That’s why Lord Voldemort dragged you away from our date at Madam Puddifoot’s!”  
  
“You went to Madam Puddifoot’s with him- on a date?!”

“Go ask Lord Voldemort, Draco, he’ll tell you.”  
  
Harry began to shake with anger. “This is ridiculous! You don’t honestly believe him over me, do you?”  
  
"Don't get shirty with me because _you_ cheated again."  
  
“And Ron and Roger got sent to the train only because they got caught having one off across from us.”  
  
A loud harrumph filled the room. Blaise shoved past Harry and ran up the stairs.

“How hard is it to keep your legs closed for one solid hour?”

“Pretty hard, obviously,” said another voice.

“Well then, your boyfriend can join us. I don’t mind.”  
  
Harry backed up on the stairs to retreat. “Why are you doing this to me, Oliver?” There was a pregnant pause. No one moved or made a sound. He shook his head in disbelief, shocked that something so innocent had turned into something so ugly. “You know what? You can all go to hell! I hate every last one of you filthy rich pigs!”　  
  
“Harry!” shouted Draco, hearing him pound up the steps.　  
  
“Oi! Who’s down there?” The shadow of someone very large loomed over the stairs. Several conjoined groans resonated throughout the room. Boys began running up the stairs, pushing past the shop keeper to get away. Draco trudged up behind. Oliver had escaped before he could confront him.

* * *

Sitting in the train, in a carriage covered in green velvet drapery, Tom smoothed back Harry’s fringe and pressed his lips to the lighting-bolt shaped scar. “I’m sure he just wanted to make Draco jealous. Stop the blubbering now, everything will be fine.”

“Did you lock the door? I don’t want _him_ barging in. I don’t want to see him at all.”  
  
“Not yet, I—” The door opened. Draco calmly entered the carriage and threw his bags up on the overhead rack. He locked the door and plopped down on the opposite seat. Harry retreated into Tom’s side, burying his face under his arm.  
  
“So you can’t even look at me, eh?” said Draco, his words were dripping with vexation.　  
  
Harry peeked out from under Tom’s arm. “Sorry, were you under the impression you were invited here?”

Draco crossed his arms and sat back against the seat. “Perhaps if I looked like Oliver you’d let me stay.”

Harry stretched his legs and connected with his taunter’s shins.

“Ouch!”  
  
“You deserve worse!”  
  
Draco rubbed his leg, glaring at the other boy. “Hold him down please. Someone needs to learn a lesson.”  
  
“I really shouldn’t get into this,” argued Tom, holding up defensive hands.　  
  
Harry looked up at him, shaking his head. “I don’t need a lesson. I didn’t do what he’s accusing me of. He needs to believe me. I would have believed him if it were the other way around.”

“Yeah, Draco. It’s not like Potter is known for his lying.”

“Well, he’s known for cheating.”

“Prat.”

Tom sighed. “Knock it off, you two.”

“Well, if you didn’t do it why would he say that stuff?” The frustrated blond punched the wall and slouched in his seat.

Harry shot him a dirty look. “I don’t know but why don’t you just dwell on it forever. It’ll give you something to figure out while you’re walking down to Professor Black’s chambers.”

“Whatever,” Draco replied, frustrated.  
  
Tom reached up and swiped the fog that had formed on the window and sighed. “Train’s stopping. We’re back.”

* * *

Tom pulled his cloak on, tying the sash at his throat. It was woollen, black, sweeping the floor. He slipped his mask on, raised his hood and looked into the changing room mirror. With a swish of the cloak he turned and quickly left the room.　

Draco stepped out of Professor Black’s classroom, hiding his face behind a mask. He pulled his hood up to cover his silky white hair and ran off toward the dining hall.

* * *

Harry stared blankly at his bed. It was literally covered in shopping bags. He heaved in a deep breath, hoping some mistake had been made and someone was just using his bed out of laziness.　  
  
“So many gifts. Payment for services rendered?” mocked Blaise. He was lying on his bed by the door. “You are a massive tart, I just assumed this is what you were fucking the whole school for.” He looked up at the ceiling. “You’ve got everyone fooled - but not me. Ron and I were getting close and you screwed that up.”  
  
Harry glowered at him. “I didn’t do anything with Ron.”  
  
Blaise stood up and pulled his cloak on. His dark eyes glared daggers at the boy. “You better watch yourself, Potty, one of these days someone’s gonna mess up that pretty face of yours,” he warned, pulling his mask down. He turned to the door and left the room.  
  
“He’ll get over it. He’s just bitter that Ron’s in the Quiet Room tonight.” Neville Longbottom was looking over his shoulder at Harry as he finished adjusting his caveman costume in place. He gave him a warm smile of encouragement. “Draco and Tom fancy you. They’ve got more money than they know what to do with. They want to spoil you rotten because it makes them happy when you’re happy. Just indulge them.”  
  
“But I don’t want them to think they have to buy me things,” said Harry. He began poking around at the parcels littering his bed curiously.　  
  
“I know it was hard to get Neville and Ron to take my gifts for a while but they’re just things, just silly material things. Have fun with it,” said Cedric. He stepped out from behind the cupboard door. He was also dressed like a caveman and looked seriously hot. Harry averted his eyes, fearing he had stared far too long at his exposed, lickably-pink nipple.  
  
There was a box wrapped in lotus cello paper peeking out from under the other packages. Neville nodded toward it. “Open it. It’s a costume. You might as well wear it, it’s already been bought and paid for.”  
  
“Fine, but only because you talked me into it,” Harry huffed. He gasped, expecting some variation of a French maid or some other raunchy costume. Instead, inside the box lay a beautiful set of delicate, feathery wings. “Oh,” he said, holding them carefully in his hands.　  
  
“Put them on. Should be a halo in there, too,” said Neville. He flicked his fingers through the flimsy tissue paper inside while Cedric adjusted the billowy, white appendages on Harry’s back. His fingers brushed over the glimmery ring. He lifted it out and placed it on his head. “Oh, it looks perfect on you,” he commented in earnest, taking a few steps back to look him over.  
  
“I’m hardly an angel, Nev,” said Harry, glancing at his reflection in the small hanging mirror in the wall.　  
  
Cedric chuckled. “That’s why they call it ‘a costume’.”  
  
Harry looked around for a card. “I wonder who bought it,” he said, frowning.  
  
Neville took his hand and looked into his eyes thoughtfully. “We did. We bought it for you because when I saw it we both immediately thought of you.”  
  
“Oh, that’s so sweet!” Harry hugged them both. It meant so much to know that someone had done something for him selflessly and out of the kindness of their heart. He knew Neville lived with his gran and had no money to spare and Cedric would never expect anything in return. “I don’t know what to say! Thank you.”　  
  
Looking back under the bed, Neville scowled and nudged the two boxes he had hidden underneath it with his toe. One toppled over and a French maid uniform spilled out. He did not care very much for the costume choices Tom and Draco had made. Finally, he took the boys’ hands and yanked them toward the door. “C’mon, let’s get going, we’re missing everything.”

* * *

The moment he entered the room, Harry knew he was in trouble. He was not sure if it was be good trouble or bad, but the hairs standing up on his arms gave a telltale sign of things to come. Darkness shrouded the entire area lit only with black lights. Everyone was wearing a costume except Lord Voldemort, who was standing in the back of the room with his arms crossed over his chest.

Several tall, looming figures crossed his path, all wearing cloaks and masks, looking very similar to grim reapers. Some of them were watching him, he was sure. He shivered when he entered the room, taking his place at Seamus’s side.　  
  
“Cheers, Harry! Oh my God, you look so cool!” Seamus said, slapping him on the arm.　  
  
Harry’s eyes roamed over his horrible-looking costume. He was wearing old jeans and a t-shirt. They were torn and splattered in blood. His face was painted a sickly shade of green. He looked terrible. “What are you supposed to be?” Harry asked after finding his breath.  
  
“A zombie, silly,” he said, grinning.  
  
“Here.” Cedric walked over and handed Harry a cup of punch. “Drink it fast, swallow it down in one gulp if you can.”  
  
Nodding, he tipped it back, swallowing it whole. He immediately gagged. “What was that?”  
  
“It’s spiked,” whispered Seamus, wagging his eyebrows. “Here, have another.”  
  
He downed it and found his hand filled with another cup. He sorely wished Ron was here to stick with him. Cedric and Neville were fine people but they tended to disappear at the first moment they thought they could sneak off to shag. Tom and Draco were nowhere to be seen.  
  
Neville handed him a forth cup. “I’ve drank hm, one and four, eight myself er… still don’t fell- feel… oh my.”  
  
Snape made his way through the crowd of boys, swooping in like a bat and hovering above a few younger students to frighten them. Ironically enough, he was dressed as a vampire, something everyone thought he might be to begin with.  
  
Lord Voldemort kept his eye on the four boys huddled together, particularly Harry. Harry was far too pretty for his own good. His fringe draped down past his lower lip and would stick to his tongue every so often when he spoke. He kept brushing it back far too sexily for his tastes, tucking it behind his ear and shaking his head so the process would repeat. Harry was sylph and delicate, his golden skin had paled to cream from lack of sunshine. His ravishing almond-shaped eyes would gaze up at him every few minutes from under his fringe, checking to be sure Voldemort was still watching him. He had a naïve look about him, framed beautifully by the angel wings and halo. A blush would rise on his cheeks each and every time his eyes would lock with the man's. He would giggle as he averted his eyes, but it never lasted more than a few seconds. It was beautiful watching him, so fucking beautiful. Harry, he had to admit to himself, was pure sex on a stick.  
  
“Who are all the boys wearing the masks?” Harry whispered. There were a lot of them mingling through the crowd, looking quite sinister. He did not care for their costume choices at all. “Any…” Harry looked around him. Seamus had wandered off to chat with a few west wing boys. Cedric and Neville were gone. “Typical.”　  
  
The thought of staying at the party was a bad idea, but leaving might be worse. His head swam with dizziness. He lost himself in another cup of punch to steady his shaky hand. Was that five or six? He could not remember. “One more won’t hurt,” he said to himself, filling the cup to the brim.  
  
Less than a minute later, the shriek of a teacher filled the hall. “Someone has spiked the punch!” Severus Snape wrung his hands as he stood over the sweets table. Lord Voldemort shoved away from the wall, looking very agitated.  
  
Harry swayed on his feet. There were lips on his ear then and hands on his hips to keep him from falling over. “You look heavenly,” was whispered huskily in his ear. “Gonna eat you up tonight. Can’t-fucking-wait.” He rocked his pelvis into the little angel’s backside provocatively, making the smaller boy gasp in elation.  
  
“Mmm,” Harry hummed, leaning back against Draco.　  
  
“But this isn’t the costume I bought you.”　  
  
Harry turned around and Draco slipped his mask back down on his face. “Someone else is spoiling my baby.”  
  
He rubbed his eyes briskly. “I don’t like that mask, take it off.”　  
  
“No,” he said. “I have to wear it. It’s an initiation thing. You wouldn’t understand.”  
  
Harry looked at him suspiciously. “Initiation to what?”  
  
“None of your business,” he snapped back.  
  
“Fine, I don’t care anyway.” He noticed Draco was rubbing his forearm. “What’s wrong with your arm?”  
  
Draco adjusted his cloak, ignoring him. “I have to go. I’ll meet up with you later. Oh, and try not to cheat on me while I’m away, if that’s even possible.”

Harry gave him a nasty look. “Oh, bastard.”  
  
He was gone, disappearing into the crowd with a brisk wave.　  
  
Snape and Voldemort had dumped the large punchbowl out the window. They were now frisking various boys against the wall in attempt to confiscate any other forms of illegal paraphernalia. Harry did not want either man to smell the whiskey on his breath. He backed away-into someone else.　  
  
“Oh!”  
  
“There you are.” Arms encircled him, a cold mask rubbed against his cheek.  
  
“What’s with the skull-faced masks? They’re ghastly!” he cried, prying it off of Tom’s face. “Don’t tell me - an initiation, yes?”  
  
“Quite,” he replied. “It’s sort of a club, a tradition for oldest boys here. You’re too young yet to join—”  
  
“Draco’s my age,” said Harry, catching the lie.　“And Blaise.”  
  
Tom stammered. “Look,” he said, taking the quizzical boy off to the back of the room, toward the broom cupboard. “It’s not for you. You’re too soft. No offence or anything but you wouldn’t enjoy it. It’s no fun at all.”  
  
“Who started it?”  
  
With a dangerous sneer, Tom closed the door.“My father. Something is going on in this school. Someone sent him a blackmail letter. Said they had a video tape. It was of he and _*cough*_ 　well, he wouldn’t tell me what was on it. He only said it could never get out.”  
  
“Wha’s that mean?” said Harry as he fidgeted with one of his wings to keep his swimming head clear.　  
  
“Someone’s blackmailing him. So there’s this club he made many years ago for the select few whose families are wealthy enough and their children wicked enough. It has been turned into- I suppose you could call us Death Eaters, that’s our name. It’s not really a club, Harry, we’re his spies, his bullies and we do whatever he says needs done. He forced some of the boys to join, most others volunteered. Getting on my father’s good side can bring a family up in status. It’s encouraged to join if you’re selected.”  
  
Harry gasped. “That sounds horrible! You should tell… er… someone. N’er mind.” Finally, Harry didn’t feel as bad about being middle class or common. He sighed weakly, feeling very drunk.  
  
“Yeah, tell who—Snape? Ha! He’s one of them too. So are Crabbe and Goyle. They’d do anything for that bastard.” Tom sighed, frustrated and his hands groped out. Harry was in his arms in a heartbeat, pressed tight into his body. “You can’t tell anyone- Have you been drinking?”  
  
“I won’, promise,” he said, his lips grazing against the taller boy’s. They backed up against the wall, knocking brooms and spades over, their hips grinding against the other for friction. Harry’s head was swimming in a vat of muck. He had never indulged before and had certainly drank far too much for his thin frame to distribute properly.  
  
“God, as badly as I need to fuck you, we shouldn’t,” Tom moaned, “He’ll be looking for me.”  
  
Harry slumped into him as the powerful narcotic in the punch jumbled his mind and slurred his movement. “M’kay, gonna rest here then, honey-bunny,” he purred. He slid down the wall. His glasses went askew and his halo fell off. “Mmm, nighty-night.”  
  
“Don’t be dense, get up,” said Tom, dragging him out of the cupboard by his ankle.　  
  
“Harry, I thought I warned you not to— oh, it’s you,” said Draco, looking at Tom. He walked up to them and grappled Harry’s free ankle. “What’s wrong with him?”  
  
“He’s pissed, passed out about a second ago. I suppose we should put him to bed,” said Tom, sighing.  
  
Draco picked him up off the floor and slung him over his shoulder. “We don’t have much time left. I don’t like the idea of leaving him alone tonight. But we have to, don’t we? Thanks for getting us into this fucking mess- again. Like you always do.”  
  
“I didn’t think he’d force us to become Death Eaters over this,” hissed Tom, poking Draco’s ribs with his finger. “What the fuck did you write in that blackmail note?”  
  
“I told you it was a stupid idea. Did you honestly think your father would roll over and give you all his money over a sex tape of him and the biggest tart in St. Brutus’s? When he finds out it was you he’ll probably cut you off.”  
  
“We’ll worry about it tomorrow. Let’s put him to bed before we’re late.” They walked back to the dormitory, each carrying half of Harry.

Draco tapped his cheek while Tom unlaced his trainers and pulled them and his jeans off. “Hey, look at me. Don’t get out of bed. Stay here until we get back. Okay?”  
  
Harry shifted to his side and slipped his thumb between his lips.  
  
“He’s not going anywhere. C’mon,” said Tom. They pulled their masks back down and were gone.

* * *

It took less than five minutes for Harry to wake up groaning, in great need to use the lavatory. He padded across the floors in the halls, sliding a hand along the walls for support. He stumbled in through the swinging door, not noticing the shadows following behind. He was wearing the wings and his skivvies, looking very sweet and innocent.　And after he washed his hands, he began the return trek to dorm seven, completely unaware of anything suspicious. His head was down, his eyes closed. He bumped into a warm body blocking his path.

“Look who doesn’t have his ginger attack dog to protect him this time.”

Another person came up from behind and pressed his form against Harry’s back. “He looks pissed. I’d venture a guess and say he’s had too much punch.”  
  
Harry looked up at the one in front of him with blurry vision. He was wearing one of those stupid masks. He pushed past him, annoyed. “Donlikeyou.”

The one in front pushed Harry back into the one behind him. “Feeling’s mutual, Potter.”

Feeling more alert, Harry shoved forward. The rush of pure adrenaline stirred him awake. He took a great breath and lunged to the side to get away. “Move, get outta my way.”

“Not so fast.” The one behind him took him around the neck, squeezing it like a vice with his forearm to cut off his supply of oxygen and any impending screams. “Get his legs.”

“C’mon, in here,” he tipped his head back to the restroom, ignoring the panicked struggling after sweeping Harry’s legs up under the knee. “Let’s make this quick, I don’t want him getting away.”


	10. Tart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Voldemort comes to the stark realization that he does not like the idea of anyone marking something he had not realized he wanted until it was marked. Things change, he'll make such a good daddy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the story really deviates from the original. You'll be able to tell if you've read the dark version. Also, this story is not without darkness, it's just not anything like the other. There will be dark parts but I promise there is no rape, no death and no squick.

_“Tart.”_

_"Come again?"_

_"Tart, sir."_

_“Tart?”_

_“I’m afraid so.”_

_“Tell me your joking, Black. Please - tell me you’re joking.”_

_“That’s what it says.”_

_“Oh, for Christ’s sake. Have the authorities been telephoned?”_

_“That’s your call, sir.”_

Lord Voldemort rubbed the sleep from his eyes and leaned back into his office chair. He was feeling fuzzy, having been awoken in the middle of the night. There was an emergency, something had happened to one of the students. Normally, things like this were handled by the Headmaster. But this was different. Somehow, he felt personally responsible. And he never felt personally responsible.

Feeling as if he might explode and murder everyone within his sights, Voldemort found himself asking about the details of what happened. He had to know if they tortured the boy in the worst way he could imagine. It was killing him inside for some reason, as if this was an attack on his own son or himself. “Level with me, Sirius. Did they hurt him...You know, other than…did they make him do anything to them? Or, umm...did they do anything to him...untoward?” His voice grew soft. He didn't want to have to ask, he honestly didn't want to know if the answer was 'yes'. He prayed they hadn't, but prayed if they had the boy was unconscious during it. His teeth clenched behind his lips for a moment while he approached the subject as delicately as he could, seeing that Black wasn't catching on to what he was tossing at him. “C'mon, level with me Black. You know what I'm getting at. He's attractive...very attractive in every way, shape and form.  Stupid boys wouldn't be able to help themselves around him...so I'm asking, did they sexually assault him during the attack?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Sirius Black was shaking his head. “Poppy gave him a thorough examination. As far as she can tell there was no evidence of that.”

Voldemort sighed in relief while unconsciously making the sign of the cross. “Oh, thank God, Black; that’s definitely a plus." He held up a hand, making a 'stop sign' with it. "Hold off calling the police then. We might be able to keep this from getting out right away.” He glanced down at the parchment on his desk. Black had scrawled out the phrase left by the perpetrators. Voldemort shook his head in disgust. “I’ll get Filch on repairing the doors in the lavatory at sun up.” He tipped back and pressed his thumb and finger into the bridge of his nose in attempt to quell his pounding headache. He looked back at Black, sighing. “Has anyone looked over the hall cameras yet?”

Black’s nostrils flared in dislike. “Of course, sir. The two perpetrators were wearing cloaks and masks. It could have been any of _your_ boys.”

“My…? Goddamn it.” Lord Voldemort willed his anger stay itself. He rapped his fingertips on the desk, feeling tetchy. “I suppose I’ll have to phone those horrible relatives of his.” The thrumming sound quickened in pace and then stopped abruptly. “And it’s permanent, you say?”

“They poured ink on the wound. I suppose some corrective surgery could lessen it later down the line. I don’t know how these things work, to be honest.”

“Tell me what happened. Is he okay?”

The words ‘Fairy Potter The Whore of St Brutus’s’ had been carved across the doors of the lavatory. The poor boy was lying on the floor beneath them when Crabbe found him. The word ‘tart’ had been tattooed into his skin across his lower back.

“They strangled him into unconsciousness. I’m guessing they did their little art project on him after that; the lacerations are very precise.” Black paused for a moment, his features lightened and darkened over the situation he was discussing and the man he was giving this information to. 

"They strangled him?" Voldemort asked, blinking, as he sat up stiffer in his seat. He reached into a drawer to find his car keys. "My God...How hurt is he? Should I take him to hospital?"

Black shook his head while he motioned for the man to stay put. “He's fine, sir, I swear. He's got some mild bruising on his throat. Pomfrey thinks there’s very little damage, although he refuses to speak. Snape just gave him something to help him relax. He was pretty shook up but he’s out like a light now. Let's just let him sleep this off tonight, there's no sense in waking him while this is still so fresh.”

Voldemort relaxed a bit. He pulled his hand out of the drawer and set it on the desk. “Oh, okay. Umm, let him stay in there then. I’ll put Goyle on guard duty as soon as he arrives. We’ll keep a watch on him. I’ll make some calls, bring in some help. I don’t want this getting out to the media - or Nurmengard. You know...Grindelwald; he doesn't need to know about the poor child.” _He would take this boy for his own. He is perverted, if he knew that I covet him - he would not hesitate to take him from me. “_ We’ll keep Harry in the hospital wing until talk of this dies down here. I don’t want him subjected to the taunts of his peers while he’s so fragile. Potter's has had enough problems in his life as it is.”

Black agreed. “Good idea, sir.”

* * *

Ron, Draco, Tom, Neville and Cedric were sitting on their beds scrambling to figure out what had happened the night before. All were dazed from shock and worry. No one had been allowed to visit the hospital wing. It was under Goyle guard and strict orders. At least Harry was okay, aside from the markings.

 “I already know who it was, no question,” Ron whispered. Word had leaked and spread throughout the school about the words carved into the toilet doors and the single word forever etched into the boy’s skin. “Teddy Nott called him a tart yesterday in front of the Shrieking Shack just before he and McMillan attacked us. It was them, you mark my word. Retaliation for us beating the snot out of them.”

 “They would have had to do it just before our meeting last night, within minutes of Draco and me putting him to bed,” Tom said, scratching his head for undiscovered clues.

 “You know who else called him a tart last night?” Neville leaned in closer. His concerned visage troubled the others. “Blaise. He said some really nasty things to him just before he left for the party. And he threatened him.”

 Cedric nodded in agreement. “Yeah, he accused Harry of breaking him and Ron up.”

 “He was just angry.” Ron shook his head. “Blaise would never hurt anyone.”

 “You know who else said he was a tart?” Tom hitched his thumb to his side. “Malfoy.”

 Draco glared at Riddle. “I call him that all the time and I was with you all night, prick.”

 Tom shrugged. “Thought I’d try. Seems like everyone calls him that. Now that I think on it, that’s not a very nice thing to say.”

 “Whoever did it is going to pay. With their teeth.” Ron was livid, shaking angry. “I should have been there with him.”

 “You were in the Quiet Room, remember? You couldn’t have been.” Cedric stretched out over his bed and patted the boy on the shoulder. He and Neville also shared that awful regret for getting Harry pissed and then ditching him for a cheap snog.

 “Yeah. Sod it.”

 Neville bobbed around in place, deep in thought. “Did anyone show up to your meeting after you two?”

 Draco shrugged. “I hadn’t noticed. There were so many. And even if they had, everyone had masks on. I couldn’t identify them if I wanted to.”

 “Now my father’s staying on for a few more days to try and ‘clear this up’.” Tom was irked. Everything seemed too convenient. “What if he planned for this to happen so he could use it as an excuse to stay on and play with our baby some more?”

 Draco sat up, his eyes nearly bulging from their sockets. “That is a very valid point! He probably did it to claim him with that mark. He could have set up that silly meeting to-” He froze, and then looked over the rest of his dorm mates, slouching in defeat. He needed to trust them and they needed to trust Tom and him if they were going to work together to solve this mystery. “You all know it was an initiation to Voldemort’s men’s club association, Mosmordre, yes?”

 Everyone shrugged and nodded ‘yes’.

 He leaned in, gesturing for them to get closer. “What I’m going to tell you stays between us. It’s very important that this never gets back to Tom’s father. Can I count on you three?”

 “Absolutely.”

 “My lips are sealed.”

 “Everything stays here.”

 Tom gasped. “What do you think you’re doing?”

 Draco threw an arm around his neck to pull him in closer. “We can’t mess about anymore, Riddle. We can’t do this alone. Every time you come up with a plan it backfires miserably. You’re terrible at it.”

 With a huff, Tom pushed away. “That was uncalled for. At least I can come up with them. You just bat your eyelashes and spread your legs.”

 Ron rolled his eyes. “Really? You two plebs going to row over utter nonsense right now? Tell us what you know already!”

 Draco cleared his throat. “Alright, we’ll start where Tom came up with this horrible idea to blackmail his father so he’d lay off Harry a little, give him all his money and flee the country in shame. I vehemently objected, of course…”

* * *

  _~Clomp, splick~_

 “What is that awful sound?”

 “He don’ really like his custard, he’s playin’ with I’.”

 “It will be easy on his throat. Custard is delicious, why wouldn’t he want to eat it?”

 “Yeh like kittens, Harry?”

 “You can’t eat kittens!”

  _~Sluck, plumg~_

 “I found a litter in the alley, I could bring em up for yeh ter play with.”

 Madam Pomfrey bustled over to the hospital bed and gave Harry a sharp look before snatching his custard away and bustling back off.

 “Don’ think she appreciated yeh makin’ those sounds, eh?”

 Harry shrugged. His present guard and new found friend, Rubeus Hagrid, sat beside him pushing around several colorful stones in various directions over the long, thin table that was normally used for holding food trays. He was simple but kind, and captivated the injured boy in a way he had hardly expected, considering the man’s unbelievably enormous girth.

 “You want me ter turn tha’ up?” he asked, looking in the direction the patient was pointing to and fixing on the small radio resting on a shelf. The giant man stood to comply. The soft click of a doorknob being jemmied and turning caught his attention. He drew in a great breath, expanding his already massive chest in order to appear more intimidating. “An’ wha’ do ya think yer doing?”

 Draco stepped into the hospital wing. “You’re dismissed,” he said to Hagrid, shooing him off. Tom was behind him, checking every dark corner for cameras or hidden people.

 Hagrid’s head swayed side to side. “You can’ dismiss me, You-Know-Who said I need ta stay on an’ watch Harry all nigh’.”

 Unfazed, the blond questioned the large man. “Then you want to watch me fuck his brains out? I hadn’t taken you for that sort.” He looked over his shoulder at the Head Boy. “Is that okay with you?”

 “Fine.”

 Hagrid’s and Harry’s jaws hit the floor.

 The bodyguard started to the outer door. “I’ll be outside. Migh’ wan’ ter tell Poppy before. Tha’s all I’m sayin’.”

 “Madam Pomfrey, you’re dismissed!” Draco shouted towards her office door. Within seconds, she shuffled past and left. Draco’s eyes lowered then and focused on the pretty victim teetering eagerly in his hospital bed.

 Harry hesitated, his hand kept the gown together. Tom slid into the bed beside him, now satisfied that no one was peeping on the poor boy or could record any naughty business to be had in the room that night. His large hand gently closed around Harry’s fingers, coaxing their release. Tom took his hand and held it, interlocking their fingers. “We’ve been over this. Don’t be ashamed of what some fool did to you. We’re all hideously marked now by some fool.” He and Harry looked at Tom’s inner left forearm, at the ghastly Dark Mark tattooed in vivid red. The one that looked a lot like the one peeking out from Lord Voldemort’s sleeve.

 Harry gave him a little smile. Draco was on his other side, taking advantage of Tom’s kindness in order to separate that awful gown away from Harry’s lovely body. Tom dropped it over the side of the bed and pulled him into his lap. There was a bandage covering the injury just above the dimples on his bum. Both visitors swallowed their sadness, decidedly giving it no more attention.

 Draco nuzzled his lover’s neck. “Still not talking?”

“I think a good thorough fucking will make him scream. What do you two think of that?” Harry wiggled restlessly in his lap in response.  
  
“I quite agree,” said Draco. He wrenched Harry’s knickers down over his hips, marvelling at his already rock-hard member. He licked his lips as he watched it bob around. “I think our baby has missed us.”　He pulled him into his arms and invaded his mouth. His tongue thrust and plundered against Harry’s with great force, swishing and dominating him as he trapped his body beneath him. He was so warm, inviting, his arms slipped around his neck. The hospital wing’s beds were large and airy, room enough for all three of them. He fell forward on top of him, his hand snaking out to capture Tom before he shifted aside. “Don’t go anywhere. Both of you look so fucking hot under me,” he moaned, feeling very possessive over the pretty playthings trapped beneath him.  
  
“So do something about it,” Tom said.　  
  
“That’s the plan.” He captured his lips with his mouth and Harry’s cock with his nimble fingers. He coaxed his knee between Tom’s thighs, spreading them fully apart. Harry tipped his head back, panting breathlessly, watching Riddle’s face as Draco prepared him and entered him. “Get up here and kiss me,” he ordered Harry, who obeyed and rose up to taste his sweet mouth. A silent moan purled over Draco’s chin.  
  
Tom gripped his own cock, massaging the hard muscle. Harry had leaned in, sealing his lips over it, running the rough of his tongue back and forth across the slit trapped in his mouth. “Yes,” Tom whimpered in elation. The sensation of sheer bliss trounced his every movement. Harry’s hand replaced his, slapping his away and forcing the sugary enchantment of his mouth to follow in rhythm of his slick palm.　  
  
With his eyes rolled back into his head, Draco’s head lolled around as he shoved himself in deeper, knocking the bed into the wall with each powerful thrust of his hips. Tom gripped the bedding under his hands, balling it up. Harry’s hot mouth sunk farther and farther down over his aching cock. His fingers cupped and kneaded his balls, squeezing them as his thumb ran flat up the underside.　  
  
Gritting his teeth, bucking back against both boys, Tom climaxed in a cry of rapture. Draco hissed under his breath. The sight of Harry lapping at the hot milk spilling out drove him far past any point of return. He groaned in blissful agony, digging his fingernails into Tom’s hips and arching back to fill him whole as his release exploded within him.  
  
“You’re fucking beautiful,” Tom cried, pulling Harry up to his knees over his chest. Draco dropped down beside Tom and leaned in to wrap his tongue around Harry’s pretty member. Tom and Draco fought to please him more; their wanton mouths sucking and nipping his shaft and balls. Harry stuck his thumb in his mouth and panted heavily through his nose. Each one had a hand on his bum, forcing him in closer. Their fingers probed around and entered him; feeling and finding his sweet spot together.　  
  
No sound left his lips. Harry’s hands fell to his sides, his eyes hooded and his lips parted for breath. Draco relentlessly suckled at his scrotum while Tom swallowed him whole into his throat. He mouthed several exclamations in his lustful trance. Unable to stay still, he rocked steadily on his knees while sitting on Tom’s chest.　  
  
The warmth spread quickly throughout his body. Harry sucked in a great ragged breath. A frenzy of convulsions overtook his every muscle. He quivered in their embrace, collapsing onto the bed between them. He panted and snuggled in between their warm bodies with a look of content etched on his face.  
  
Draco sulked inwardly. Harry had made no sound at all. He looked over at Tom, who seemed to share his concern. “Well, we’ll try again tomorrow. Maybe a different setting will loosen your tongue.”  
  
Harry lit up.

“Yes, you’re being released tomorrow.”  
  
Draco draped a cool sheet across his sweat-glazed form. He kissed his cheek. Tom nuzzled Harry’s throat and kissed him good-bye. They had loads of time to fuck the voice back into Harry and they would not give up until it worked.

* * *

“If only there was a way to instantly murder someone without leaving any evidence behind.”

“…and therefore I— I beg your pardon, did you say something?”  
  
“No.” Lord Voldemort shot the large man a brusque glance before returning his attention to the mobile buzzing in his pocket. He raised his hand in an upward signal as he answered the call. “Do continue with your unending objurgating — I have all day.”  
  
“Eh? What’s that- Well, in a matter of a few short months you’ve managed to turn Harry into a barking mental patient. I sent him here because he was queer.” Vernon Dursley tapped his large foot annoyingly on the floor. His meaty fists turned white-knuckled on the desk. His great moustache twitched. “Nutters, he is, completely insane. What am I supposed to do with the little lunatic once he’s graduated? I have the right mind to bring legal action against this school!”  
  
“Oh, hullo, darling. No, Romilda, I can’t make it. No, go on without me. I know I was supposed to be home days ago, I can’t leave yet. I have to go.” He sat back in his leather chair, folding his mobile up and sticking it back into his pocket and pushed back a great urge to rip the ugly moustache from this man’s roundly-fat face. He popped a mint into his mouth and peered up at Vernon. “This selective mutism is just another symptom of underlying problems he has already suffered with. It is what the psychiatrists call　 _emotional maltreatment_. Let me see here.”  
  
Vernon opened his mouth, but Voldemort cut him off.  
  
“Yes, here we go.” The handsome Lord held up a book entitled ‘ _Signs and Symptoms of Typically and Incurably Neglected and Overly Beaten Children that have been Forced into Your Life and are now Your Problem’_ in front of his face. His voice was flat, yet fitted with wisped sarcasm. “Extremely passive and subservient, inappropriate childish behaviour, has clear delayed physical and mental development, has no attachment to either care giver,” he looked up over the book, “has no attachment to them at all. Harry has all of these symptoms, Dursley. He sucks his thumb like a toddler and sits in grown men’s laps for any amount of affection. He was a hopeless case　 _before_ 　he walked through those doors, sir.”  
  
“I have not overly beaten nor neglected that boy!” roared Vernon. “Everyone hits their children. I’ve smacked him around the head a few times. It doesn’t make you mental!”  
  
Lord Voldemort held up a hand to silence him. “I am not implying you overly beat or neglected him at all. It is natural to deny love to a child when one is thrust upon your laps as he was - a great burden. I do not fault your feeble care giving skills, sir; I only ask that you give us the means to cure him. He has grown very fond of this place - and of me. I am willing to take the little burden off of your hands permanently, as we had discussed over the telephone.”  
  
A glint is trust could be seen forming between them. The kind of trust you sign your rights away to for profit. A trust that removes the little urchin from your home and frees up Dudley’s second bedroom so he stops putting his unwanted gadgets in the spare bedroom where Aunt Marge sleeps when she visits. The kind of trust Vernon could willingly accept.  
  
“Yes,” Vernon nodded shamefully. “I admit we have had difficulties rearing the child. His parents were… strange. We did not want Harry to turn out like them. I did my best.”  
  
“And I applaud you for that. Strange indeed. My offer stands— I will take charge of the boy until he is stable enough to take care of himself and you will be handsomely rewarded. All you have to do is put your signature _*tap, tap*_ right here.” He held pen over the contract he had slid in front of Dursley. He needed his silence on the matter. No media or authorities would be called over Harry’s attack. If Voldemort agreed to make the boy a ward of the school for an exorbitant sum of cash, Dursley and his wife could not speak a tarnishing word of it and would have no claim to the boy’s future.　  
  
Vernon’s fingers ghosted over the pen. “Harry is… has been a bit of a liability for us. I do trust in your abilities, my Lord. Oh, Petunia will not be happy about this - He will be well cared for?” Voldemort gave him a nod. Vernon quickly breathed a sigh of relief. “I am grateful you and I could come to this understanding.” He tugged the pen out of his fingers and signed on the dotted line.　  
  
The cheap smile Voldemort was wearing began to fade. He took the contract and locked it inside his briefcase before turning to the man with a look of warning. “The money will be transferred to your account by mid day. I will have the remainder of the legalities taken care of. Your hands are now clean. The boy is mine.” He paused for a moment, leaning over his desk so that Vernon could feel his hot breath on his cheeks. “I know we’re not going to have any problems arise over this, are we? That wife of yours should be told exactly what will happen if word of any of this leaks.”  
  
“She will be cross. Her sister’s boy,” scrimped Vernon. “She thinks I had her sign a permission slip for trips outside of the school.”  
  
“I really am a very busy man.” He pointed to the door. “If you’d be so kind.”　  
  
Vernon blanched and stood up, turning to leave. “Yes, well, good day, sir.”  
  
Lord Voldemort sat back in his chair the moment the door closed and lit a celebratory cigarette. He took a long pull off of it and exhaled with a hazy hiss. _“I win again.”_

* * *

“Oh! Don’t touch me, Potter, that’s bad!” Tom unclasped their hands as they entered the dining hall, seeing every head turn to their direction.

Draco pulled Harry over to the buffet to grab their lunch. They sat by Neville and Ron, who were both openly glaring at Cedric and Blaise. Harry fluffed his salad with his fork, watching Draco take dainty little nibbles off a romaine lettuce leaf.  
  
“And I thought we were friends,” spat Ron, his eyes centred on Seamus. “You’re like the school's Scarlet Letter. Like a feral rabbit or something.”  
  
“Get over yourself,” Seamus said snootily. He moved his chair closer to Blaise. “He’s mine now. You lose, Weasel.”

 “I didn’t cheat on you, Blaise, I was set up!”

 Snape rose from his seat. “Do I hear arguing coming from that table?”

 Blaise lowered his voice down to a shouting whisper. “He told me everything. You’re a dirty cooze!”  
  
The two newest occupants of the table blinked and stared at the others while they hurled hushed insults back and forth.  
  
“You’d believe,” whimpered Neville. “I hate you both more than anything else in the whole world. I can’t think of a single thing in this world that I hate more than you two.”  
  
“Feeling’s mutual,” stated Blaise.　  
  
“Welcome back, Har,” Ron said thoughtfully, giving the boy a nudge. He　quickly returned his attention back to Seamus.  
  
Draco set his fork on his plate, finding his appetite all but nonexistent. “You can write their names down on a paper. That’s not technically snitching.” His expression was grim. He could not get the want to find the culprits out of his head.  
  
“Pillow-biting, saddle-sucking nance,” taunted Ron.  
  
“Dolly-slopping ginger,” Seamus taunted back. He flicked at the corner of his mouth with the tip of his finger. “You should wipe Roger’s mayonnaise off your cheek, Weasley; everyone can see what a complete bender you are.”

Cedric looked between the dueling foursome in stunned curio. “You do realize that all of you are gay and are throwing gay slurs at one another as if you enjoy it. Stop it!”

“Shut your hole, Cedric.”  
  
Harry frowned. He did not know who attacked him that night.

“You’re right, Seamus. Weasley doesn’t deserve to be called gay slurs when he’s more Neanderthal than human.”  
  
Draco crossed his arms over the table in frustration.

Tom sat down between Harry and Ron, ignoring the argument. “I’m famished.”

Seeing that neither Harry nor he had done more than nibble at their lunch, Draco folded his napkin up and set it on the table as he stood up. He gracefully ducked out of the way as Ron shot past him with a raised fist. Harry burst from his chair and wrapped his arms around him to stop him. As if nothing had happened, Draco tapped the black haired boy on his shoulder to get his attention. “Let’s go fuck before these fools get us chucked in the Quiet Room.”

 Harry looked back at him, his hands unconsciously falling away from Ron.  
  
Draco heatedly pointed to the door. “Now, Potty, I’m about to flood my knickers.”  
  
“Mr. Weasley, stop!” Professor Parkinson rushed over toward the two boys pummelling each other on the floor. Professors Black and Snape were close to follow. “Mr. Longbottom, get off of him this instant!”  
  
With a shrug, Harry grabbed his bag and ran out behind Draco.


	11. The Gryffindor and the Slytherin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's world is about to take a dramatic change when he is claimed by the man of his dreams.

_“There you are!”_

_“Oh no… Hey, you.”_

_“I was hoping you were still here at the school, Tom.”_

_“I don’t go by that name here, dear. I use my title.”_

_“Oh, yes, I’d forgotten. Lord Voldemort, is it?”_

“That’s right, the name's Lord Voldemort. Now if you'll excuse me...” The tall man turned to leave. “It was wonderful seeing you again, Merry-darling, but I’ve got some very important business I have to attend to, so-”

"You think I'm an idiot, Tom?" Before he could flee he was stopped by a vice-like grip. Icy fingers clinched around his arm, and he was thrust back into the brick wall behind him.

"Lord Voldemort," the crime lord reminded her. " _Ouch, ow ow ow_ , c'mon, lighten up on the grip, Merry. You're wrinkling my suit."

“Don't you dare run off on me like you always do. I have some biscuits for you, I made them myself.” Merope Riddle smiled as sweetly as she could manage while preventing her former husband’s attempted escape.

"Oh, biscuits?" Voldemort cringed. The first and last time he indulged in his ex-wife's cooking he woke up from a nearly year-long coma with a son. "Yeah, umm...you can leave those with Filtch. I'll pick them up in the morn-"

"~ _No such luck, Tom_ ,~" Merope hissed at him in a tongue that only a few special folk could understand. She put her weight into keeping the man up against the wall, but her irritated visage softened. “Besides, you haven’t said hello to Morfin yet. He’ll be in shortly; he’s looking for a spot to park.”

Voldemort relented; he leaned back against the dining hall wall, snickering under his breath. “Oh, he's out of prison again? And you two already got back together, eh? How smashing. Are there wedding bells in your future?”

Merope's eyes, looking off in different directions, drooped with sadness. “Absurd talk, Tom. You know Morfin’s my brother.”

"Oh yeah, that's right," Voldemort replied, still tittering to himself. "I have to keep reminding myself that you two cannot legally marry because you and he are related. Sort of how you and me-" he began, but his ex thumped him harder against the wall to shut him up.

"We don't speak of our past aloud, Mr Riddle," she reminded him.

Voldemort's dark eyes lit with fire, and his hands clenched into fists. "~ _Do not call me 'Riddle'_ ,~" he hissed back at her under his breath.

Merope patted the man's pretty face to calm his temper. The lord sighed as he shook out his fists. She smiled, she always did have a way of taming his bestial side. "Relax, dear." And then her eyes lit up once more, catching a whiff of the beautiful man's musk from being in such close proximity to him. “Speaking of marriage; I’m very single again. What about you, Tom?”

~

Across the room, Harry sat, head propped on his fists, in wait for his relatives to make their grand entrance. He hadn’t heard from nor seen Dudley in over a month and was dying to have some normal familiarity in his life, if even for just a few hours.

Ron gave him a wave from across the room as he sat down with his family for their visit. He waved back.

Someone behind him placed their hands on either side of his head, turning it toward the right side of the room. “Tom’s mum is here,” said Draco, pointing out the smallish, mousy-looking woman coveting Lord Voldemort. “She’s barking mad and really unfortunate looking. Shame he didn’t take after her more, that would certainly uncomplicate things for me. _Hullo, Ms Riddle!_ ” She waved back excitedly while simultaneously pressing Voldemort up against the wall before he tried to slip away. “That man took her for a ride, swindled all her family’s bank accounts and possessions before giving her the boot.”

Harry gasped. “He did?” He was talking again. Well, sort of. It was selective, depending on who was speaking to him or what subject was being discussed. His eyes closed and he sighed, feeling fingers walk down the small of his back and disappear in his jeans.

_“Remove that at once.”_

Both boys froze. Draco pulled his hand back and straightened his posture before he was told. He whirled around to address the tall angry man standing over Harry and he, beaming a smile to lighten the darkness surrounding them. “Sorry, father, slight lapse in judgment there. Sometimes my hands do things like that on their own. It won’t happen again.”

Lucius Malfoy stood arrogantly over Harry, sneering hatefully at the wary lad as he clipped his son's arm. “Why is he sitting here? No one’s coming to see him… Oh, Lord Voldemort hasn’t told him about his commoner relatives yet.”

Roger Davies passed by their table. “Cheers, Draco!”

Draco hadn’t heard him. He knew his father very well; he was snooty and loved hurting other peoples’ feelings. Something was up. “Who, what?” he asked so Harry didn’t have to. “What do you mean, father? Why aren’t his relatives coming?”

Lucius snarled down at Harry as he pulled Draco up against him as to keep him away from the troublesome, orphaned tart. “I’ll leave that to Lord Voldemort to tell him about the Dursleys' sticky ending. Come along, your mother’s finished primping, she’s just over there.” He pulled Draco along, who mouthed a silent apology to Harry as he passed by.

Harry could feel his heart begin to race with worry. Had something terrible happened to the Dursleys? His thumb was quickly lodged in his mouth as he looked around the room for Tom. He found him sitting at another table across the way with his mother and a man who looked frighteningly deranged. The urge to ask Tom if he knew anything drifted away and disappeared.

His thumb was yanked out of his mouth, his hand set in his lap. Cool fingertips gripped his chin to swerve his head to the side, and he locked eyes with the deepest velvet browns he had ever lost himself in. He felt himself grow faint, being so close to this wicked, wicked man.

“What’s the matter, Potter?” Lord Voldemort had crouched beside him. He patted the boy's shoulder as he scanned the room. “Calm yourself, talk to me, darling. What's got you so frightened? Is the person who attacked you in this room? Point him out for me and I'll deal with him.” Having watched the boy from afar once his ex-wife released him so she could visit with their son, the alarm bells in his psyche had been set off witnessing the look of sheer horror etched on Harry's pretty face. The opportunity to take out his aggression on whoever attacked the boy was a welcoming thought. He really, really needed to let loose. He leaned in, placing his lips on the curve of the boy's ear. "Is he here? Give me a signal, love."

Harry shrugged unknowingly, as anxiety pumped through his system so hard that his chest began to ache. Looking at Lord Voldemort he opened his mouth to speak - but nothing but a squeaky noise came out.

“Ah, yes, I see.” Eyeing the Malfoys’ retreat, Voldemort seemingly understood why the boy might be upset. He took him by the hand, easing him up from his seat. The dining hall was nearly filled with boys’ relatives now. It was far too noisy and crowded to inform him there. “Come with me, love. I have something important to tell you.”

* * *

They made their way through the halls, winding through narrow passages and dank tunnels. Harry thought he might have come this way once before but he wasn’t sure. At last, they came to a brick wall at the end of the tunnel. Voldemort inserted a key into the last door on the left to unlock it. Instantly, Harry remembered the room; it was the very one he lost his virginity in. “These are my chambers,” Lord Voldemort said while ushering the boy past so he could close the door. “Some idiots knocked in the door and tore the place apart a while back. Took almost a week for Filch to get the dried semen off the walls. When I get my hands on them…”

Slowly backing up, Harry was yanked back inside and guided over to a billowy, overstuffed chair sitting in front of the television. Voldemort made himself a drink and rested his shoulder against the wall in front of him to light a cigarette. He watched the boy fidget and fight the urge to suck his thumb, evidenced by the subconscious jerky motion his hand was doing. He exhaled a cloud of smoke into the room and flicked his wrist upward, gesturing the boy to just do it already. “Go ahead, suck.”

Harry’s head shot up.

Voldemort sighed as he tipped his head. “Your thumb, Harry. I’ll allow this childish behaviour, but just this once. I have a feeling you’re going to need it.”

Now slightly more worried, Harry did as he was told, sliding it in and anchoring it to the roof of his mouth.

Voldemort flashed a lecherous smile. “How pretty.” After a moment of silent contemplation, he continued. “First off, everything said and done in this chamber stays between us, understood?”

Harry gave him a nod.

The lord continued, looking grim, not liking what he had to say for fear of traumatizing the poor sod more than he already was. “After getting to know you a bit, finding out you were the offspring of someone I knew a long time ago, I was curious about your upbringing. I did some digging around for information on your relatives recently. I wanted to understand how you came to be so abnormal, and what I found was quite shocking.”

Giving him his undivided attention, Harry sat straight backed and wide eyed, praying the Dursleys hadn’t suddenly died in a terrible accident like his parents had.

“Your relatives… The Dursleys.” The name left a foul residue on Voldemort's tongue. “Those horrible people. I know what they did to you, how they treated you in their care. I know where you were made to sleep until they had to be nudged into giving you a bedroom. Had you sleeping in a cupboard like an animal. It’s documented in your school records. I’ve seen all the reports." Giving off a cloudy exhale, Voldemort concluded, stating his findings. "What they did to you is unnatural, inhuman. And not just them, seemingly everyone did you wrong, Harry. You’ve been neglected, picked on, beaten up, chased down and hunted your whole life.”

Humiliated, Harry looked at his lap, feeling very ashamed.

“Don't look that way, It’s not your fault.” The lord downed his scotch and walked over to the boy. He stopped in front of the chair. “There’s one more thing you need to know: your relatives drained your trust fund dry. You have nothing.”

The moistened digit slowly slipped out of Harry's mouth as he gazed up at the man. He gasped soundlessly.

Voldemort held up his hand to quell the impending bout of sobs he saw forming on the boy’s sad face. “Not to worry, I’m going to replenished it.” He knelt down in front of him, taking him by the chin. His beautiful eyes were closed. Voldemort removed his glasses to wipe the tears away. “Look at me.”

Shame morphed into humiliation, he was still and always would be a charity case, it seemed. He opened his glistening eyes to look upon the man who pitied him so.

“The Dursleys can never hurt you again. I’ve had their custody revoked. Look at me, I want you to understand what I’m about to tell you.” He traced the shape of Harry’s lips with his thumb. As Harry settled into his touch Lord Voldemort gave him a soft smile. “I’m going to give you what you’ve never had before and what you so dearly deserve.”

Harry’s forehead crinkled with confusion.

"I'm giving you me," Voldemort said through a charming smile. "And all the same - I'm taking you." He dropped his lowball on the floor to squeeze in between Harry’s thighs. His hands rested over the arms of the chair. His smile was lustful yet alluring. Harry could smell the scotch on his breath. “You are mine now..all mine. I’m going to take care of you and spoil you rotten. You will want for nothing. I'm going to make you endlessly happy, darling.”

Harry gasped again, this time with a lovely little wisp of a sound as his features brightened with happiness.

Lord Voldemort inclined his head like a curious serpent. His eyebrow arched villainously, his lip curled on one corner. “It will be our secret. Our relationship must remain hidden. I have rivals; powerful, terrible men who would like nothing more than to hurt me any way they could. If they found out about you…they can't find out about you. I can’t put you in danger. Can we keep this secret between us, love?”

Harry’s head bobbled up and down eagerly. He took the man’s hands, giving both a very tight squeeze before shoving off from the chair to be in his arms. He curled into Lord Voldemort’s embrace like a sleepy cat, letting him stroke and pet him ever so sweetly.

The Lord scratched his chin. “Good boy. Now, one more thing: you will need to pretend to be Professor Pettigrew’s boy from now- no, stop struggling, I’m not finished. That’s good, very obedient. He will call on you and deliver you to me on my command. His chambers are across the hall, no one will be suspicious.” He tickled his chin, slowly coaxing his head back. “Would my little kitty like some milk?”

His boy began purring.

Lord Voldemort smirked as he flicked his eyes off to the side. “On the bed.”

Standing, Voldemort strolled over to the bed while shucking the clothing below his waist. He stamped his cigarette out in an ashtray and mounted the four poster. Harry crawled along the floor on his hands and knees, removing his clothing here and there, never once taking his blurry vision off that sleek, toned body he was about to toy with and best. He crawled onto the bed, between his parted legs and sat on his haunches. Voldemort was still wearing his shirt and tie and his socks but it was his cock that caught Harry’s attention; it was bobbing and twitching so randomly, begging him to play with it. Harry drew his tongue along the length of the back of his hand, wetting it. He reached out, running it up the firmness of Voldemort’s shaft. He pressed his hands over each thigh and leaned in to caress it with his cheeks.

The Dark Lord began to hiss breathy sighs, catching Harry’s attention. Like a cobra, he reared up from the mattress. “Give me your hands.” Harry presented them, wrists crossed and smiling as Voldemort bound them with ribbon and draped them over his neck. He coiled around him, pressing their forms tightly together. “I’m going to devour you.” He caught sight of the marring tattoo as Harry leaned into him, his eyes flashed blood red. “I’ll hunt them. I’ll slaughter them like cattle.”

Harry shook his head ‘no’. His pink tongue swept across the line of his pursed lips, teasing them open. Voldemort relented, letting Harry suck and nibble on his bottom lip. “Ah, why do you do this to me?” the man groaned. Blindly, he slapped around beside him, groping for the bottle of warming oil he’d left on the bedside table. “No biting, Harry,” he warned as he prepared the pretty boy straddled in his lap, “I don’t want to have to gag you this time and miss the brief chance you might speak for me.” He knew that he could order the submissive little thing to speak but he had no interest in that. He didn’t want his boy to ever be frightened of his daddy.

Harry rested his forehead on Voldemort’s shoulder, eyes closed, beaming with delight. He was well past ready to bounce on his cock until he collapsed with exhaustion. “Mmmm,” he hummed, loving the slippery long fingers slide in and out so gently and skillfully. Voldemort was so careful to take him, he knew his baby hated pain. Harry drew in a great breath, taking his heavenly prick inside, and the thrill of pleasing his Lord commenced. And this Lord was so giving as he took, dousing the boy’s genitals with sweet oil and claiming its prettiness in his hand to stroke. And as they moved as one, their breathing quickened, their forms were smacking loudly, slick with sweat.

“Gonna come hard for me, little pussy?”

“Yes,” Harry whispered sharply, eyes shut tight, lips parted in heavy panting. It was almost indiscernible, but he had spoken for him. The sounds stirred within Lord Voldemort, compelling his control to lessen and surrender. Every muscle tightened up as he yanked Harry off and gripped the base of his cock. His strokes were hard and fast, his attention focused on the boy hunched over his kneeling form. Voldemort pulled him into his embrace. Harry looped his arms over Voldemort’s neck, pulling him close enough to suck his tongue from his mouth while his master brought him to climax. He exhaled a strident gasp as his orgasm flowed hot throughout his body. And only after batting his lashes for him, he bent down to lap up the mess his master and he had made, nice and clean, like a good little cat.

Lord Voldemort sipped on their mingled juices while watching Harry be so loving as to bathe him with his tongue. He coaxed the boy’s chin up with his knuckle when he was finished and smiled. “Such a good boy. Give me your hands.” He untied the ribbon and pointed to a door in the back of the room. “There’s a bath in there. I want you to clean yourself up, wash your hair, put on one of my shirts and sit on the bed and watch the telly until I return. I’m going to get us something to eat, I’m starving.” He caught Harry by the wrist before he climbed off the bed. “I will be leaving tomorrow for an extended period of time. I’ve got piles of work to do, I’m so behind. Don’t you worry, though, I’ll have someone watching you at all times. No one can hurt you anymore.” Harry nodded in understanding and kissed his cheek, but frowned at the impending loss. Lord Voldemort tousled his hair. “I will make this up to you. I promise.”

* * *

The sun had yet to rise. The cold cave-like passages goosed Harry’s flesh as he wound his way back to the main floor of St Brutus’s. Lord Voldemort had departed more than an hour before and told Harry to wait until he was far away from the school before returning to his dormitory.

As quietly as he could, he tiptoed past Snape’s chamber door. The sounds of lumbering footsteps pounded into his ears, trying to keep up with him. He turned back with a finger to his lips to shush his new bodyguard.

Hagrid winced. “Sorry, Harry, not easy teh tiptoe in these boots.”

Harry shrugged and beckoned him onward. They made it unnoticed back to the dorms. Hagrid stood at the door while the boy crept inside to take his bed. Draco was snoring loudly, leg hanging over the side, his sweet toes swaying slightly. Harry dropped onto his mattress, head hitting the pillow hard. Tom was stirring in his bed, almost fidgeting. He was awake. Harry leaned over and gave him a tap- and jumped, startled by the boy who was very much not Tom lying in Tom’s bed.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you, mate.” He had dark hair and dark skin, a very handsome face and a long neck. He held out a hand in greeting. “Name’s Dean. You must be Harry. Nice to meet you.”

He shook his hand while scanning the room for Tom. Ron was awake, sitting up in bed looking back at him. “He’s been moved to dorm eight, Har, where he should have been in the first place.” He turned to Dean. “Try and get some sleep, Thomas. I know it’s tough your first night, but we’re good folk in here, we’ll take care of you.”

Shocked, Harry threw up his hands in question.

“He refused to leave because Draco was moving in here at the start of the year and Snape lets him do whatever he wants. Lord Voldemort moved him out this evening when Dean got here.” He smiled brightly, his teeth aglow in the dim light. Harry slumped dejectedly and fell back in his bedding. He had lost two of his gorgeous men before sunup. “Draco’s really happy about it, too,” he added before tucking back into his own bedding and falling back to sleep.

* * *

Severus Snape thrummed his fingers over his desk in impatience. He had been placed on hold more times than he’d cared to count. “Yes, hullo- I know he’s a busy man but this won’t- Yes, have him call me back as soon as you can.” He dropped the phone and looked up at the two people sitting across from him. “He’ll call back. Where were we?”

Petunia Dursley sat stiffly in her chair, a mixture of betrayal and self pity sat heavy on her face. “Of course he won’t answer,” she huffed. “He stole my nephew from me. The man’s a snake.”

“A snake, you say? Using words like that is not going to get your son any closer to being enrolled here,” Snape shot back. “He’s now been expelled from every other private school on this continent. This is all that’s left, madam.”

“Just remind him that I’ll reconsider the lawsuit I’ve been thinking about filing if he takes my baby angel in. It’s not his fault all the other schools are too ill equipped to handle him, isn’t that right, Diddykins? He has a few friends that attend here, as well, he’ll fit right in.”

Snape shrugged, feeling slightly defeated. “He’s doing fine, by the way,” he said sarcastically, noting the woman had yet to ask how her nephew was doing. “He recovered quickly. His marks are good.”

The woman blushed but the boy next to her sat up in alert. He was very intimidating. “Who did this to him? Don’t tell me- I’ll find out myself.”

“Uh, I would not advise…”

The telephone rang, breaking the awkward air in the room. Snape jumped and answered it. “Ah, yes, sir, thank you for returning my call. No, he’s fine, Hagrid or Goyle is watching him at all times. I have a new student here needing to be enrolled, and I was thinking I should- Yes, I am aware I can do that by myself, that’s not why I called. It’s who the student is that I wanted run past you… Dudley Dursley- Wait, don’t hang up. Listen to my reasoning before making your decision: the young Dursley is a very large, very muscular and very protective relative of Harry’s who would love nothing more than keep his cousin very safe and very much away from all the other boys here. Uh huh, ok, yes, ah, absolutely. Brilliant, I will have him enrolled and moved into dorm three immediately, sir. Thank you for returning my call, cheers.”

As he hung the telephone up and looked up at the two across from him, he noted both having lovely little smiles of victory plastered across their faces. Dudley stood up, fist pumping into his palm. “Show me to my room.”


	12. Fencing Practice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems Harry is always under guard, leaving Tom and Draco to pool their brains together and figure something some way to get their baby alone.

The weather had turned very chilly, lessening the hidden places around the grounds all the boys in the east wing liked to shag and snog in. Snape refused to heat any empty room in the evenings, making it very hard to concentrate on sex when your teeth are clattering. The common room was packed. Harry shrugged dejectedly at Draco, who was sitting across the room from him. Instead of being next to him as he dearly wished, Harry was nestled tightly between his cousin, Dudley, and his friend Piers, unable to move a hair.

The large television bracketed to the southern wall of the common room struggled to have itself heard amongst the growing chatter. _“…little stuffed badgers left as clues. Officials say that may be the link between the Hufflepuff gang and the recent arsons in the area. In related news, that new order we keep hearing about seems to be rising from the ashes and gaining power over the Nurmengard organization, and some speculate it may surpass Mosmordre in the coming years if the rise continues its momentum. Simply called ‘Phoenix’, it’s fiery mark can be found all over the city…”_

Dudley’s first week at St Brutus’s had gone off without a hitch, according to him. “So I punched Smith in the face maybe eight or nine times before he admitted to doing that to you. But then yesterday he said he really didn’t do it, so I punched him a few more times and he said he did again. Case closed.” He smiled smugly, very impressed with his performance. “I should become a detective.” He smacked Harry on the shoulder, so happy to be reunited with him and his gang. Most of Dudley’s dorm mates were already well acquainted with the large bully. There was Malcolm, Dennis, Gordon, as well as Piers residing there. Teddy Nott, Ernie McMillan and Zach Smith shared the dorm with them. All of them bullies, great frightening beings who skulked the halls, terrified east wingers and loomed over Harry, circling him like vultures to peck at anyone daring to have a taste.

Draco sat quietly, fumbling around with nothing, pretending he was not listening in on Dudley’s conversation. He was hoping to garner any information that might help him get in the large boy’s good graces or get him chucked out of the school. He and Harry hadn’t had any sort of sex in a week and it was driving him mad.

“I was thinking about demanding Harry here be transferred over to the west wing, to our dorm. We could give him McMillan’s bed and send that rat to Harry’s dorm,” Dudley told Piers, who immediately agreed, sycophantically so. Harry blanched. “But I don’t think I have enough pull here, yet. Plus, Professor Lestrange hates me. She’s always on me like a great wicked hawk. ‘ _Dudley, stop that! Put him down! Authority Room_!’”

“They’d never allow that,” Tom chimed in, who just happened to be sitting right next to Draco pretending to do something so he could listen in. Both boys, purely evil and deadly clever, sat in wait, studying their prey for any weakness. “Harry’s a homosexual. Homosexuals get beat up by your sort all the time. You think my father would allow his ward to be subjected to that?” He did not like this new boy at all. He hadn’t been alone with Harry all week. Harry was always under guard, he couldn’t even watch him sleep anymore.

“Having problems with Professor Lestrange, you say?” Draco’s wheels were turning, Harry could almost see smoke billowing from his ears. He was looking mighty sinister. His tongue swished over a canine as he rose from the sofa and he crossed the room, hands pressed flat together, rubbing furiously.

Immediately, Dudley and Piers stood up, shoving Harry deeper into their sofa. Both boys punched their palms, the only gesture they knew, and hunched forward in preparation to take this boy down. Draco threw his hands up. “No, no, I’m not here to touch Harry. I heard you mention that you’re having trouble with a teacher. A specific teacher. I can help you there.”

The teachers at St Brutus’s were specialists in their fields, and all were trained to educate, combat and dominate the horrible children who attended it. Bellatrix Lestrange was a valuable asset to the school, specializing in physical education. She and her husband, Roldolphus, were also in charge of the handing out punishments if you were sent to the Authority Room.

“Professor Lestrange is my aunt, you see.” Draco didn’t know her that well. She had been in prison most of his young life, but she doted on and spoiled him to make up for it. “I can get her to back off.”

Dudley scowled. “And why would you do that for me, ya wanker?”

“Er…” Draco hadn’t thought the plan through fully, he just got a little too excited.

Tom stood up, ready to jump in. “Because Harry’s our study partner, nothing more, and we are having a lot of trouble getting our work done without his help. Plus, er, there’s the… fencing practice he’s missing. I know you really care for him and your intentions are honourable, but it’s sort of put a damper on our progression.”

“We don’t fence here,” Roger Davies pointed out.

“It’s new,” Tom corrected him with a icy glare.

Dudley hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “He don’t even talk. You want me to believe he’s playing a sport now?”

“We’re hoping this will help with that,” Draco piped up, seeing Tom quickly run out of excuses. “He might be talking by now if we’d been allowed to work with him but you’ve kept that from him all week. I guess you don’t want him to talk, or something. Very cruel.”

Dudley looked guiltily back at his cousin, who was sitting very quietly and looking angelically innocent behind him. “I want him to talk.” Piers was looking at his friend now, discerning as to why he was so heartless as to want his cousin to stay mute. Dudley blanched. “I do!”

Draco smiled. “Well then, I think we can help each other out.”

“What are the terms?”

“We get Harry two hours a day, every day.”

“You’re barking. One hour a day, three days a week.”

Tom and Draco looked to the ceiling, chins scratched, contemplating the damage they could do in that alloted amount of time.

“Two hours a day, four days a week. One of them must be on Saturdays. Final offer,” Tom said flatly.

Dudley snarled. “And no touching him.”

“How dare you. We are in a school that instills the proud virtues of chastity,” Draco said, looking aghast.

Tom shrugged. “I guess they think that’s all we do. We’re human beings, you know...just like you lot. C’mon, Draco, I’m far too insulted to go through with this.”

Piers cringed and nudged Dudley, who was also cringing. “Wait, I really need you to get her to lay off. I’ll trust you. Do we have a deal?” He stuck out a hand and Draco instantly took it and jerked it downward.

“Absolutely.”

* * *

“Fencing practice.” The words made him angrier each time he said them. “Fencing practice.”

Tom squirmed. “Okay, I’m sorry. It just popped out.”

“Fencing practice,” Draco hissed. He paced around the dorm room, lip twitching, one hand on his hip, the other raised to shoulder level, fingers snapping. “I’m trying to figure you out, Riddle. It’s a mystery, really. Tell me, how does one of your intelligence always manage to come up with the absolute worst ideas ever formed by any brain in the history of mankind?”

Tom was blushing and averting his eyes. He was sitting on his former bed, tiring of the tongue lashing currently aimed at him. “That’s a bit of an exaggeration.”

Draco stopped pacing and bent down to look him in the eye. “Is it? How are we supposed to fence when we have no equipment here?”

“There are other things on my mind right now. Like, who attacked Harry and, what are we going to do about the blackmail situation? They’re sort of using up a large portion of my thinking at present. We’ll just tell him fencing is cancelled.”

“And he covets Harry again. This is ridiculous. If it’s not Dudley, it’s Hagrid or Goyle. There’s always someone watching him.”

“So let’s figure out who attacked him so it’ll stop.”

“The school will probably explode if we found out now, just because you made that suggestion.” He thought and thought, paced and grumbled. Something, anything, it wasn’t fair. Fencing practice. Fencing practice. Draco stopped. His grey eyes widened and he snapped his fingers. “Fencing practice!”

“I effing get it, bastard. Enough.”

“No,” Draco said, smiling curtly. “Why not start? I’ve got equipment at home. So have you. I’ll bet most of the blokes here have some. Let’s just ask Snape if we can start a team. You said it yourself ‘it’s new’.”

Tom blinked. “That’s actually a really good idea.”

Draco shrugged. “I know - That’s because I came up with it.”

Ron and Neville entered the dorm room and hopped on their beds. Ron flopped onto his mattress, looking quite upset. “Harry will be in in a minute. Those awful blokes are stupidly parading him around the common room telling everyone who doesn’t look like a lumberjack not to touch him. He must be dying inside.”

Dean, Blaise, Seamus and Cedric followed in soon after. Tom sighed. “I have to go now, I guess.” He blew a kiss to Draco and turned to leave. “I hate my new room. Some of my dorm mates are really odd. There’s a lot of hushed whispering and changes of subject whenever I enter. I don’t think they like me very much.”

“Nobody likes you very much,” Draco pointed out. “You’re mildly creepy and your father owns the school. That never bothered you before, you’ll get over it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Right,” Tom said, feeling worse now. “Evening, all.”

Harry was thrust into the room soon after. He aimed himself at Draco’s bed and fell into the boy’s arms as his momentum dwindled. “On your own bed, Potter,” Goyle ordered. “Don’t make me come in there and smack your boyfriend around.”

“And where’s Hagrid tonight?” Draco dared to ask while Harry righted himself and flopped onto his own mattress.

“He ain’t allowed to guard you’s at night anymore. Go to sleep or I’ll put you to sleep.” Goyle ordered.

Draco watched Harry battle his demons through aggravation. The boy looked exhausted with fret while clamouring at his bedding in frustration, nibbling on his bottom lip while he struggled for comfort on his mattress. He grunted as he tugged at the sheet trapped beneath him, gritting his teeth, gripping the corners until the bundle relented and slid free from under his weight. He gave off a sigh as he pulled the bedding up to his neck and rolled onto his side to look back at the boy that he loved. His green eyes lit up only then, and his lips went taut with glee. “Love you,” he mouthed silently and made kissy kisses at the white haired boy beside him.

“Love you, too,” Draco whispered, ghosting a touch of the boy’s cheek.

“I said sleep. If I have to come in there it won’t end pleasantly, boys,” Goyle warned, his sausage-link finger pointed at the two lovers.

The lights flickered and dimmed. Their hands hung over the sides of their beds, fingers clasped.

* * *

Severus Snape’s fingers were ablaze with writing, tapping on his calculator buttons and sliding across the parchment he was reading. There was a lot of thumping his fingertips, clearing his throat, chewing on his pencil, sweaty forehead wiping, discouraging sighing and teeth gnashing going on until a light bulb seemed to click on over his head. “Aha!” Dropping his pencil, he sat up in his high backed chair and smiled at the two boys sitting across from him. “I do believe I can fit this into the budget. Most of the boys have their own fencing gear, which will help. I’ll have to cut a few things; no more dessert, no more heating the dungeons, sack Hagrid… Yes, I can purchase enough equipment required.” Anything for you, Tom.

Draco and Tom instantly smiled. “That’s brilliant, Professor. You won’t regret this,” Tom gushed, giving the older man a knowing wink.

The Headmaster blushed. “I think getting some exercise is a wonderful idea. Perhaps it might quell the urge to use your energy in other ways.”

“Oh,” Draco said, smile instantly gone, “Then forget it. I’m not giving that up.”

Tom, still angelically smiling at the Headmaster, kicked Draco very hard. “You’re absolutely right, sir.”

Snape shooed them off. “I’ll take care of the logistics. Run along now, I’ve got it from here.”

* * *

“One down, two to go,” Draco mumbled under his breath as Tom and he reached the common room. Every head turned to them, their breathing hitched. The boys stood stone-faced for a moment before throwing their arms up in a sign of victory. Everyone jumped and cheered.

Dudley and Piers leapt from their seats, unintentionally vaulting Harry from between them. “Sorry!”

Draco ran over and helped him stand. He took his hand, tipping his head to create a hair shield to block his cousin’s view. He gave the back of it a quick kiss and released it before anyone was the wiser. “Alright there?”

Harry gave him a nod and a smile before returning to his human vice.

Tom cleared his throat. “So, the dorms will be broken up into four teams. Dorms one and two will compete against dorms five and six. Three and four against seven and eight. And we’ll have to share some equipment but that’s a small price to pay. We’ll start practicing after we get back from holiday. Everyone who has equipment bring it with you when you return.”

Harry frowned. “Holiday,” he whispered to himself. The word struck a painful chord in his heart. It hadn’t occurred to him until that moment that he had nowhere to go during the holidays. He looked up at Dudley. Lord Voldemort would definitely not let him go to the Dursleys. He looked at Tom. He didn’t think Voldemort would want him in their home. What if the media saw them together? He shook his head. He looked at Draco. Nope, that won’t happen. Not in a million years.

“About our deal,” Harry’s head snapped up. Tom was standing over him with his fingers clasped together and head tipped forward. His eyes were on Dudley, looking stunningly handsome. “It’s Saturday. Release him, please.”

Dudley hesitated for a hot minute, looking suspiciously back at the Head boy. “What for?” Harry nudged him and wiggled out from between them. He jerked his thumb at Tom and made an ugly face. Dudley looked from Tom to Harry, still skeptical of their intension's. “You don’t fancy him?”

Harry gasped, and then pretended to retch and gag. Tom waited patiently for him to finish. It took a while. “Wow.”

“Okay, fine,” Dudley said through a snort as he tapped the face of his watch. “You’ve got two hours, Potter.”

Both boys walked calmly to the common room door. Draco stood up and casually followed them. They looked no one in the eyes as they weaved through the crowded room. They got to the hall and stopped. “No Goyle or Hagrid?” Draco noted. Unbeknown to the trio, Snape thought Harry’s cousin had done such a fine job of keeping him safe he thought it best to use the two lumbering beasts elsewhere until bed check. “I know where we can go, that room in the dungeons, Har, you remember?”

Harry shook his head and grabbed the door frame before Draco could drag him off.

Tom took Harry’s hand. “We’ll go to my dorm. Goyle rarely pops his head in there until after lights out.”

* * *

The moment they entered the room three heads snapped up and whipped around to look at them. Tom gestured to the door. “Out.”

Oliver Wood, Roger Davies and Cormac McLaggen stood up. Harry and Draco scrunched their noses at them. McLaggen, who was a boastful snob who thought he was better than everyone else, ignored the two younger boys and turned to Tom in challenge. “This was our room first, Riddle, we’re not leaving. Go find some place else.”

Oliver was staring at Harry, his head bobbing up and down, sizing him up. “How you getting on, Potter?”

“Smashingly,” Draco said for him.

Tom inclined his head at his rival. “Fine, McLaggen, but we’re shagging in here. I’d ask you to join us but none of us really want that.”

Harry and Draco agreed as told by their heads swaying side by side in unison.

Roger grabbed Oliver’s arm and pulled him out of the dorm room.

Cormac and Tom stood up to the other with their chests puffed out and heaving, nearly touching with each heated breath. Tom was wearing a wicked gaze that gave Harry a shiver. It was impressive to watch his arrogance, he was so very good at using it to his advantage.

Tom’s hands came up to his neck. He began unbuttoning his shirt, eyes wild and locked with Cormac’s. Draco and Harry were tensed with anticipation. Tom’s shirt slid to the floor. He snapped his fingers at his two lovers without breaking his stare. “Get undressed, we don’t have much time.”

There was a snort, a snarling huff and twitch of eyebrow. Cormac ran his shaky fingers through his sandy blond hair the very moment Riddle dropped his trousers. The corners of Tom’s lips curled up. He loved winning.

“Fine. Use the goddamn room, you bloody weirdos.” He pushed past the boys and left, stomping away.

Tom flopped onto his bed. Draco crawled in beside him but Harry, still fully dressed, was very busy taking in the room itself. The beds were in two rows of four along each side wall as they were in his dorm, but that’s where the similarities ended. The room was gorgeous. The walls were painted in swirls of indigo, sea green and mustard yellows. Faerie lights were strung around the vaulted ceiling. Luminescent stars were painted everywhere and began to twinkle as the overhead lights dimmed. The beds, all of them, were large four posters with sheets of pure silk.

“You can turn your overheads down before lights out?” Draco grabbed the remote Tom was showing off with. “Ridiculous. When did they add this?”

“You want to see the best part, Har?” Harry jumped. Tom was behind him with his hands on his shoulders. “See that door right there? Go take a look.”

After squinting around for a bit he saw it. The door was almost undetectable. It was painted to blend in with the wall but the dim light peeking from underneath it gave it away. Harry was in awe as he felt around the flush surface for the knob. He found it and turned it, the door slid back and to the side. “Oh,” he breathed as the private lavatory was revealed. He turned around to the boys standing behind him, grinning. “It’s brilliant!”

As large as the dormitory room, this room held none of the whimsy of its counterpart. It was exquisite. Harry had no idea something this amazing could actually exist. Rectangular shaped and darkly lit, the walls and floor were made of polished stone flecked with little gold bits that sparkled when the light touched them. There were toilets on either side against the walls, their doors slabs of dark granite. In the centre, four basins separated were by a ceiling length mirror. Beside it, an almost pool-sized bath resided, filling the room, set in the ground and lit with striking violet orbs beaming up from the base.

“This is what keeps all the rich snobs here enrolled until graduation. That’s where the money is, you see,” Draco said, looking somewhat unimpressed. “It’s alright, I guess.”

Tom was removing Harry’s clothing for him. He pointed across the room. “We share this with dorm four. Certainly don’t want any of those interbreeds walking in on us. Doll, go lock the other side.” Draco walked across the room while Harry kicked off his shoes and pulled his t-shirt over his head.

“Remind me again why you stayed in dorm seven until now?” Harry asked in a scratchy voice as the last article of clothing fell away and Tom eagerly nudged him toward the bath. “Sorry, I love you both but-”

Tom stole his words with a kiss. “Can’t believe I’m saying this- but enough talk out of you… for now.” He lifted Harry into his arms and stepped into the heated pool. Draco joined them on the other side.

Draco pulled Harry against him and drizzled water over his head. “We shouldn’t waste a minute. I have a bad feeling about this. Does your father have a key?” He eased Harry’s head back into the water, wetting it. “Let me give you a bath, darling.”

“He’s not here. He’ll be in London till the hols,” Tom said, lifting Harry’s foot out of the water. “Such lovely toes you have,” he whispered.

“You like them?” Harry curled them sweetly, letting Tom take them into his mouth. He giggled, unused to the tickle it caused. And then it hit him again; the approaching holidays. He rested his head back, sighing softly. “So, about Christmas…”

Draco poured a thick liquid into his palm. “Lean back, let me wash you. What about Christmas?”

He tried to stay as still as possible. Tom was nibbling on his slender, curvy toes and rubbing his inner thigh while Draco massaged shampoo into his scalp, producing a sleepy torture sensation he had no idea how to react to. He bit his tongue and wiggled around a bit, easing into the oddity. “Well, you know. I don’t have a place to go. I don’t think Lord Voldemort will let me go to the Dursleys.”

“Heavens, no,” Tom huffed. Harry’s toes were on his groin, delicately massaging him to hardness beneath the water. The Head Boy held his thighs, keeping him afloat as he worked him over. “Yeah, that’s good. You’re going home with us. The Malfoys are taking you to their place but my father won’t allow you to stay on, I’m sure.”

Draco sighed. “My parents never stay home for more than a day if they have the chance to leave. He’s not going to let you bunk alone with me.”

Harry could feel his lover’s hardness bobbing around behind his back. He reached behind him, taking it. “So, what? He gonna put me in an orphanage or something?”

“I suppose he’ll take you to Riddle House. I can’t imagine spending that much time alone with Voldemort.”

 “What about Tom? He’ll be there.”

Tom sighed. “Unfortunately, I’ll be spending most of my time at the House of Gaunt.”

Harry tipped his head. “What’s that?”

Moving along steadily against the delicious pressure on his cock, Tom pushed the feeling of sadness about the upcoming holiday to explain. “It’s literally a shack. It’s on my maternal family’s property, it’s all they have left. My mum is busted.”

Draco snorted. “You can say that again.”

“Oh, ha ha.”

“Good thing Lord Voldemort didn’t make you his boy; he’d have you all to himself and no one to rescue you,” Draco said darkly. “He’s so evil, you’d be at his mercy; he’d take advantage of you, probably fuck and torture you all day and night.”

“Oh!” Harry blushed. His cock twitched. Hard. Many times. Forgetting about his ugly tattoo he was trying to hide, he quickly covered his hardness before either boy saw it. And as fast as the excitement came, he realized he had yet to tell them about his ‘new’ professor. “Yeah, boy. I did get chosen about a week ago.” He cringed, hating lying to them, hating saying who it was.

Draco coaxed his head back into the water to rinse the suds out. “But that’s wonderful! Who?”

“Er, Professor Pettigrew,” he said sadly, feeling the name stick in his throat to choke him.

Tom gasped, Draco screamed. “What? No! Tell me that’s a lie!” He grabbed Harry up into his embrace, clutching him rigidly like a dying loved one. He glared at Tom, betrayed. “How could you let this happen?”

“I had nothing to do with that!” Tom shot back.

Harry turned around, taking Draco into his arms. “Relax, it’s not that bad. I don’t mind. Tom had nothing to do with this.” He slid his fingers back into place. “Hey, love, come here, help me calm him down, will you? He seems so tense.”

Draco emitted one last choking sob before curling around Harry, cupping him at the nape of his neck to claim his lips. Tom took a great breath and plunged into the water. Their cocks were before him, swaying and colliding so beautifully against the waves of the pool. He took them into hand at the base, pinning them together under his grip. He slid his tongue between them, up and down until he ran out of breath. He surfaced to watch them kiss. “Just so you know you can’t come in here. There’s chemicals that detect that-”

“Then you’d best not spill any,” Draco ordered and pushed him back under.

Tom shoved himself back up and shook the water out of his hair, it’s droplets smacking Draco and Harry in the face. “No, idiot, it’ll set off an alarm which immediately alerts Crabbe and unlocks all the doors to this dorm room.”

“Okay, out,” Draco orderer. After giving Harry a heave up he pulled himself out of the bath.

They were already stuck together by the time Tom got out; their panting lips barely touching, an occasional tongue searching to feel the other. Their eyes were closed. Draco’s fingers were slipping in and out of his lover so delicately. Harry’s arms were around his neck, his hands balled in tight fists. “God, you don’t waste a second. Budge over,” he whispered. He dropped down between them, forcing them both to give him their attention.

Tom took turns kissing each boy deeply. His head fell back against the wet stone. Draco and Harry leaned in to kiss against Tom’s mouth. Their tongues curled around the Head Boy’s to touch the other, their throats moaning with hunger.

The was a series of loud thuds against the door. “Who’s locked us out?”

Harry sat up and wiped a line of drool from his chin. “Well, it was fun while it lasted.”

“Fucking criminals,” Tom said as he groped for a towel. “Maybe the dorm is still empty.” He padded over to dorm four’s side and unlocked the door.

Marcus Flint thrust it open and immediately checked the bath to be sure no strange colours were floating around in it. Finding it usable, he gave Tom a nod. “Riddle.”

“Flint,” Tom said, returning the nod.

The moment Tom returned to the dorms, he knew there was going to be trouble. All of his dorm mates were in their beds glaring at the two younger boys standing in the middle of the room. Tom had seven dormitory companions, all from wealthy families that just so happened to not be somehow involved with any of his father’s vast financial institutions or business organizations. That never mattered: their money was just as crisp as any subservient minion of Mosmordre. Any deviant boy who’s family had enough cash was encouraged to enroll. It kept things clean between the rivals’ ringleaders.

McLaggen had returned. He was resting on his back in his bed. “All through eating your little _tart_ , Riddle?” Cassius Warrington, Terry Boot, along with Wood and Davies, laughed like idiots. Viktor Krum and Justin Finch - Fletchley did not.

Draco shoved Harry through the door. He turned, ignoring the laughter, the ugly stares burning holes through him to point a warning finger at Tom. “Keep your cool. They’re not worth it.”

Tom’s expression spoke volumes. He looked every boy in the eyes, one at a time, letting them see his distaste or indifference until he reached McLaggen. “Oh, I don’t know about that, I think it might be very worth it. Go to bed, Harry, Draco,” he said without looking at them.

“Nope!” Draco was back inside, Harry right behind him the instant Tom dove at Cormac. Draco was grabbed and held. Harry made it to the bed and threw himself next to Tom to assist him on bloodying the twelfth year prat. Someone slapped the call box on the wall by the door. Oliver Wood yanked Harry off the bed with an arm around his neck. Cassius grabbed his legs. They began inching out of the dorm.

“Vood, let him go!” Viktor Krum was on his feet in an instant and wrenched Harry away from them.

"Back off, you two." Finch - Fletchley was suddenly between them with his arms extended to keep them apart.

Roger Davies had Draco pinned, face first, over his bed, wrenching his arms up behind him to keep him down.

Terry Boot was on the bed now, helping Cormac overpower the Head Boy boy. They took turns holding him down and punching him in the face until a shrill order sounded throughout the room. Everyone stopped and looked at the door.

Severus Snape glowered at the room. Crabbe and Goyle stood behind him. He raised his hands to the sides of his head and snapped his fingers. He pointed them at Terry Boot and Cormac McLaggen. “Ice bath.” With pleasure, the two orderlies moved in. Snape smoothed his wrinkled robes down. “The rest of you in my office,” he said. He looked at Tom’s bleeding, swelling face and frowned. “There will be hell to pay.”　


	13. Fucking With the Bull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gorgeous trio leave the school for the upcoming holidays. Draco finds a new way to get into Harry's pants while Tom struggles to remain faithful to Snape.

Lord Voldemort tapped a cigarette on his desk as he glanced over Harry, looking him up and down to be sure he was unmarked. Only then did he fix a scowl on Tom and Draco. “As if I don’t have a million other things to do already, boys. Your inability to control yourselves has seemingly no limits.” He lit the cigarette and exhaled a cloud of smoke into the room, caring nothing about the young white-haired one's obvious objection; he was grimacing and waving at the air as if the room had been filled with poisonous gas. He gave the boy a look, one that sent icy shards of panicked adrenaline through the boy's veins. “Put your goddamn hand down or I'm gonna make you cry.”  
  
Draco thrust it into his lap. Lucius Malfoy thumped the back of his son’s head in annoyance. “You’d better pay attention to what he says, child.”

Voldemort grimaced as he looked over his own son’s wounded face. “Always doing something stupid, aren’t you? You couldn't back off, you had to have a go, didn't you? Your mother’s going to have a fit when she sees your face.”

"I'm sorry..." Tom cringed. His face was bruised and scraped up pretty good. He was almost sure he might lose a tooth at some point, too. He gripped the icepack against his jaw to numb the pain and hide his reddening cheeks.

Lord Voldemort turned his attention back to Harry, who had been fidgeting far too much for his liking. The boy’s hand was suspended in air between his shoulder and chin, his fingers shook as he attempted to not suck his thumb. “Are you okay, Potter?” he asked.

Harry nodded curtly. "Yes, sir," he said under his breath.

Satisfied, Voldemort tossed him a wink before glaring back at the other two boys. “This will be the last time I speak to you two about this. I expect better self control from you both. You know, some of these boys have very important parents, who work for very important bosses. I cannot stress enough how valuable they are in this school. The last thing we need right now is war breaking out because you two can’t play nice." His head dropped low, his eyes ignited with hatred. He flicked his cigarette at the wall behind Tom and Draco to add more drama to the conversation. "You march out of here right now and fix this colossal fuck-up. I want you to apologise to all of the boys you idiots attacked and promise them it will never. Happen. Again.”

 Tom and Draco agreed. “Yes, sir.”

The elder Riddle watched their eyes flit around the room to avoid him. He made a fist and slammed it on his desk, startling them both into giving him their attention. “We’ve got a few days left before the break - do I need to put the two of you in the Quiet Room until then?”

“No, sir,” they replied as one, both looking somewhat worried. Harry crossed his arms very tightly across his chest, averting his eyes. The Lord’s practised flat intonation was always hard for anyone to read. Voldemort took great pleasure in watching people squirm around in his presence. “Back to the common room,” he said. He pointed silently at Harry and mouthed the word ‘sit’ while he depressed a button on a box on the wall by the door. “Crabbe, to my office. And you, too, Lucius, stay for a moment,” he added, gesturing for the man to shove the two lingering boys out of the room and shut the door.

Crabbe arrived soon after. Lord Voldemort looked up as he opened the door. “Put Potter in my car. I’m taking him to the city to get him cleaned up. I’ll be there soon.”

As soon as the room was empty of orderlies and students, Lord Voldemort reached into his desk drawer and tossed a letter to the other man. “Look this over, will you? I have a few samples of students’ handwriting to compare it to, although I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”

Lucius Malfoy stared grimly down at the letter in his hand. He held it next to several other pieces of parchment paper, comparing the penmanship. He knew deep down inside that this was not necessary, either. He knew who wrote the letter before he even thought to compare; it was his son’s distinct, meticulous joined writing. He’d know it anywhere. With a noise in his throat that mimicked what a dying kangaroo might sound like, he dropped the blackmail letter on the desk and turned his attention back to his boss. “Of course, it’s Draco’s writing. I don’t see how he could have come up with this plan by himself, though. Highly improbable, my Lord.”

“Harry doesn’t have a clue about it. He’s a terrible liar and every way I’ve hinted around about the existance of this tape has him baffled.” Lord Voldemort sat back in his high-backed chair, his grin sinister, his followed laughter high-pitched. “But, you don’t have to convince me that he wasn’t alone. I have a surveillance tape of he and my son going in and out of the control room on the night before I received this. It’s a shame how not-clever they are. I had such high hopes for the both of them.”

“You don’t think they carved the little one up to try and pin this on you, do you?” There was mild concern etched within the creases of the white-haired man’s brow. He was testing his boss’s level of unhappiness toward his only child, careful to not take it too far to either edge. “I can question him. I’m sure he’s had nothing to do with this.”

“Relax,” Voldemort said, waving a hand of indifference. “If our sons had assaulted Potter in the lavatory, it would not have been ink he was doused with.”

“You have a point.”

Lord Voldemort seemed amused. He leaned over his desk, fingers interlocked, looking as if he couldn’t be any more pleased with himself than he was. “Your boy’s got quite an imagination, thinking I’d roll over and give him five million for a single punishment. That’s what this school is all about.”

“Well, it is a very specific punishment, my Lord," Lucius pointed out as delicately as he could, still shocked to read the details of what was on that tape in the ransom note.

“Get the tape,” was Voldemort’s curt reply. It was soft in volume, without a hint of shame. If anything, he almost looked more content than he had the moment before. “But wait until after the holiday...and be sure they keep Potter in the dark over this. I don't want him to feel responsible for this, it wasn't his fault after all...”

"Of course." Malfoy stood up quickly, nearly knocking his chair backward. “On your will, my Lord. Good day.”

“I am confident this issue will be taken care of without any unforeseeable problems.”

Lucius turned on his heel to look at him. “There will be no problems, my Lord. I’ll make it very clear.”

Voldemort’s eyes lit with scarlet flecks. “I’m counting on that.”

* * *

It was hot. Despite the cold temperature outdoors and the window beside him being propped open with a stack of old books, Harry was sweating. He tugged at his tie and scuffed his polished shoes on the glossy floor in trepidation. He was staring at the grizzly-looking, pock-marked skinned man beside him with wide eyes, watching him sterilizing his instruments in a not-so-clean-looking bowl of iodine and alcohol. Slowly, his hand raised up he could bite all of his paper-thin fingernails off, but a large hand, not his own, grabbed him and shoved it back down before he could get a single nip in.  
  
“Stop fidgeting,” Lord Voldemort snapped, giving the boy a stern look. He clapped him on the cheek to lighten his worry. “Do you need something to help you relax, darling?”

Harry shook his head ‘no’ very quickly.

"Mhm, right..." Voldemort pressed the call-box. “Professor Snape, I need a sedative brought to my office.”  
  
Harry chomped on his chewing gum extra hard for a moment, wondering why the man was still giving him the ‘look’. “Oh, sorry. No, I don’t need one, sir.”

Lord Voldemort was impressed. Harry was advancing greatly. He was clean and properly clothed, well groomed and manicured. He was speaking normally once more, when he was prompted. He had become capable of not sucking his thumb when he got stressed. His eyes were bright and his cheeky smile stayed on his face pretty much throughout the day. He looked and acted like a normal human being, no longer the knobby-kneed colt who seemed so unsure about life.   
  
“Sit up straight, lad,” ordered Rookwood, giving the boy a shove, yet holding onto his shirt like an anchor to rattle him. “Pull up your sleeve and don’t move.”  
  
“Not so rough, Augustus,” said Lord Voldemort, intervening. He moved in between he and the boy, and began straightening up his shirt like a doting daddy. His eyes remained fixed on this object of desire. “This one is different. He’s not a Death Eater, he's not like them...or you. I don't want him marred, I want this mark to camouflage something.” There was a baleful twinkle in the Lord’s eye as he turned to face his oldest and most loyal Death Eater. He gently took Harry’s hand and helped him from the chair. "This one is _mine_. His mark will be for my eyes only."

Rookwood leered at the pretty boy in macabre-debasement. "If you say so, boss."  
  
With a single sweep of his arm, all of the contents on Voldemort’s desk skidded off onto the floor. He lifted Harry up and dropped him down, spreading him flat against the desk. His hands roamed over the boy’s torso, inching his shirt up to toy with the buckle of his belt. “Look at him...Isn’t he breathtaking? Look at this face.”  
  
“He’s very lovely, my Lord. Like a little china doll,” Rookwood said as he fiddled with a piece of tracing paper stenciled with an awful looking skull and snake. Harry slowly raised his hand, dying to suck his thumb. He had seen this symbol many times now. It was something he could not help but associate with the night he was attacked. It was everywhere now, branded on his lovers’ arms, on Voldemort’s arm, spray painted in spots all over the school.

"Don't you dare." Lord Voldemort pinned his hand to the desk and shoved a fresh piece of chewing gum in his mouth. Hastily, he unzipped Harry’s trousers and slid them down past his jutting hips before swirling a finger in the air. “On your stomach.”. Tracing a finger around the ghastly letters Harry had been branded with, Voldemort gave a nod to the other man. “Here, cover this all up as best you can with my mark. Make it look good.”  
  
“Tart.” Rookwood grinned toothily. “Right-o, Governor. Give me a moment to change up the design.”  
  
The door opened and closed behind Harry. He sighed with relief, rethinking his reluctance to the tranquilliser. Snape moved beside him and made a strange burbled sound in his throat. “Ah, they finally dragged you to the barbers, I see. I had no idea your hair could sit flat,” he teased, giving Harry a little simper as he rolled his cuff up and jabbed the needle into his arm.　  
  
Harry whined in his throat. Draco had not gotten any of his hair cut off, citing ‘religious reasons’ and had his father take precautions over the ‘ _Malfoy look_ ’ by having documents written up to keep him protected. Uncle Vernon would never do anything that grossly outrageous for Harry. He would have been there next to the barber handing him the shears.　  
  
The instant the tranquiliser took effect, Harry sagged over the top of the desk; his eyes closed and his breathing steadied. “There you go,” the Headmaster murmured to Voldemort. “Oh, and Mr Malfoy was kind of enough to deliver this, sir.” Severus produced a thick envelope from his jacket and handed it to the man before he left the room.　  
  
Lord Voldemort leaned in to the desk, smiling as he skimmed through the paperwork. His dark eyes lifted, landing on the boy, and his smile grew. “It’s official, I’m your legal guardian and fiduciary now. Remember when we discussed your future arrangements last week?”

Harry winced at the pain as the needle began carving into his skin. He gave the older man a single nod and let his heavy eyelids fall closed once more. "Mhm..."

The handsome man tapped the boy’s left hand before taking it into his. “Here, love, give me a good squeeze when it really hurts.”  
  
“Thanksss,” Harry slurred. His expression jumped from grimacing agony to sleepiness every few seconds.

Lord Voldemort pried his mouth open and removed the chewing gum before he choked on it.　He leaned in closer to whisper into his ear, avoiding the buzz of the machinery. “I grew up in an orphanage, if I hadn’t told you this already. It was awful, Harry; it turned me into what I am today...But! As much as I hated it, it would have been preferable to residing with those awful relatives of yours. They turned you into what you are today. We both could have been so different, if only we had love...”　  
  
Harry’s sugar-glow skin warmed under the wayward fixation of the gorgeous man holding his hand. He arched his back and squeezed his hand, groaning miserably from the cutting barbs on his backside. “I get what you're sayin'...just hurts so much,” he whimpered to him.　  
  
Voldemort ran the pad of his thumb along the boy’s tensed jaw line. “Augustus, keep your mind on your work,” he warned darkly, catching a glimpse of his roaming attention to the boy on the desk.　  
  
Rookwood chortled heartily and fixed his eyes on the mark.  
  
Harry took several shaky breaths. His threshold for pain was exceedingly low, that was a certainty. He was squeezing the hell out of Voldemort’s hand.

The lord massaged the tissue-thin skin of his temple while he watched him struggle to endure before going still.

Harry's eyes fluttered closed, his rapid breathing calmed. The tattoo was being filled in, buzzing loudly, cutting through the flesh. Thinking the boy had fully passed out, Voldemort squeezed his limp hand still trapped within his. “What am I going to do with you?” 

Harry squeezed it back and looked up at him, his green eyes aglow. ”Anything you want.”

* * *

Draco, Tom and Harry stood in front of St Brutus’s school in wait for their stately cars to arrive. There was an endless line strung around the horseshoe drive, all looking exactly the same to Harry. The boys were wearing matching hats and scarves, all knitted by Tom’s mother. The colour patterns made no sense and they were all very strangely shaped but they kept the boys’ warm enough while they braced through the chilling winds they were waiting in.

Tom was headed to Riddle House for the first three days. He and his father would have that time together to catch up on life and relax without worry of work or school. Harry would be going to Malfoy Manor during that time and be under the care of Lucius and Narcissa until they left on holiday. Tom would collect Harry and take him to the north after a quick day at Snape’s, to stay on with his mother, Merope, until the new year rolled around. They would then head to town, back to Riddle House, when Tom’s father, along with his companion, Romilda Vane, would return from their holiday and they could all celebrate a late Christmas together.

“Oh, look who it is, the idiot triplets,” Cormac McLaggen nudged Terry Boot as they walked to their car. They stopped. All three boys standing on the last step stood stock still, trying their best to ignore them. Cormac sauntered over to Tom’s side and leaned in close. “Daddy still holding your leash? I’d hate to think you’re just standing there because you’re afraid.”

“No, he’s still holding it or I’d be fucking your face up right now,” Tom replied quickly.

Boot was beside Harry. He took his knit cap and flung it into the road. “Awe, you lost your bonnet, Potty.” Draco’s hand twitched but Harry steadied it before it flew up into Boot’s nose. Boot surreptitiously grabbed the end of Harry’s scarf before giving him a strong shove off the step. “You should go get it!”

As his momentum shot forward, the scarf went taut in Terry’s hand and cinched around Harry’s neck, jerking him back. He fell to the ground with a strangled gasp. Draco and Tom flinched to react but Harry threw up a hand to stop them.

“Surely, someone saw that,” Draco growled lowly as he and Tom helped Harry stand. He looked around, catching sight of McLaggen having a laugh as he stepped into his stately car. Terry Boot had also wandered away before they could retaliate.

“There’s my ride,” Tom said, shrugging. He felt a lump start to develop in his throat. “I’ll miss you both. See you soon, Har.”

“We’ll see you in a few days, you great tit,” Draco replied and gave Tom a shove off the step.

“Right,” he said, pushing the choking lump away with a hard swallow.

There was a man standing on the edge of the road waving in Draco’s direction. He was a short person, with very large eyes and a long, pointy nose. “Master Malfoy, Dobby is here with the car, sir!” he called out.

Draco lifted his luggage up and jerked his head in the small man’s direction. He grabbed Harry’s hand. “That’s us.”

* * *

“Come look, Cissy,” whispered Lucius Malfoy, waving his wife over as he peered into the back of the car now parked in their drive. Narcissa came around and leaned in to get a look inside. Draco and Harry were fast asleep, tangled up in each others’ limbs and half-removed clothing. “They’ve shagged themselves to sleep, how precious. Where is my camera?”

Narcissa nudged his arm. “Help me get them inside.”

The mobile in Lucius’s pocket began to buzz.

“At least you can tell your boss some good news now. The sooner he stops calling the sooner we can leave,” Narcissa remarked, watching her husband fumble to answer before it cut off. She leaned back into the car and gently shook the two sleeping boys awake. She centred her attention on Harry’s sleeping visage. He had an attractive face but it was dirty… or disfigured… Her expression was scrunched in disapproval while she dabbed a handkerchief on her tongue and rubbed fruitlessly at the ugly scar on his forehead. “What is this? Won’t come off.”　

“Mum, stop,” Draco said in a sleepy voice. He stretched through a yawn. “C’mon, Harry, we’re here. Let’s go get to bed.”

“Separate rooms!” Lucius cried, covering the mobile with a hand as he watched the two exhausted boys climb the grand staircase to the second floor.

Draco gave him a curt wave off behind his back, not bothering to turn around. “You know I always get my way. Night.”

* * *

In the morning, a fresh blanket of snow had draped the garden in spectacular fashion. Snow was not common in this part of the country, making it that much more special. Everything was thick and white; a true winter wonderland. Draco pressed the garage remote attached to the visor of his auto, allowing the beauty of the outdoors to be seen through Harry’s large eyes.　  
  
Harry zipped his ski jacket up and gulped loudly. “This is your garden? It’s the biggest thing I’ve ever seen! And you have your own car?” He gaped at the magnificence of the scenery as he ran his hand along the freezing metal frame of the white Mercedes-Benz Draco was warming up.　  
  
“Wait!” Narcissa ran through the doorway toward the boys waving something in her hand. “Oh, I caught you, thank God,” she puffed. Without another word, she placed a cashmere winter-band over Harry’s head and adjusted it to hide his scar. She swatted his hand away as he reached to touch it. “Okay, perfect. Leave that on, Harry. Have a lovely time, boys.”　  
  
Draco snickered as he climbed into the car. “Get in. We’ve got a lot to do today.”　  
  
“You don’t have any bubblegum, do you?” fretted Harry, running his fingers under the fluffy black material to rub his scar. Draco had not mentioned where they were going or what they were doing, but he suspected it had something to do with a lot of shopping.　  
  
“Calm down and put your hands between your knees. We’ll pick some up,” mumbled Draco. He only had shopping on his mind as he backed his car out into the heaping snow-covered drive.　

* * *

“Him again? You can’t be serious!”

“Ah yes, of course, my Lord,” Lucius shushed his wife and pointed to the blue tie. She gave him a nod and tossed it on the bed next to him. “We will be out for most of the day, but the boy is fine, I assure you.”  
  
“What about your black dinner jacket, darling?” encouraged Narcissa, waving it about as she stood in front of their wardrobe.　  
  
Lucius gave her a nod. “Yes, my Lord. Oh, you want to speak with him. Well I don’t exactly know…” Narcissa held her hand to her ear and mouthed the name “Draco” at him. “Ah, yes, he’s with Draco. I could give you his mobile number. Okay, take this down…”  
  
“Ask him how many times he’s phoned Merope to check up on Tom.”

 Lucius bit down on his tongue to stop himself from giggling. “Alright, sir, I’m sure he’ll answer.”

 Narcissa tapped her high-heeled shoe on the floor impatiently. “We’re going to miss our flight. Tell him Harry is fine and to bugger off!”  
  
“Very good, sir. Yes, you, too. Cheers.” Lucius stuck his mobile in his pocket and rubbed the sweat from his brow. “I should have made him keep the boy. This is not worth the trouble.”  
  
“Starting now - you and I are on holiday,” remarked Narcissa, taking the man’s mobile from his pocket and chucking it across the room. “The boys can take care of themselves.”

* * *

After spending several hours of following Draco around while he shopped and barked orders on his mobile, Harry had already grown very tired of living the life of a wealthy person. It was seriously boring; standing at his side, watching Draco to try on clothing and fret with his hair while several shop workers bustled around him with tea and accessories to appease him.  
  
Draco smiled mischievously at Harry as they drove back to Malfoy Manor. His light grey eyes danced with glittering glee. Shoving a wadded up piece of parchment and a pen at Harry, he corrected his inappropriate lane swerve. “Tick these off for me, will you?” he instructed. Harry unravelled the paper to look it over. It was a long list of thing needing to be done during the holidays. “Okay, got my mummy a present, got Tom that stuff he asked for, picked up Seamus’s post, begged father to have McLaggen and Boot’s father’s sacked and have Tom beg his father to have McLaggen and Boot chucked out of school.”  
  
“You got them chucked out of school?” cried Harry, looking aghast. “Why?”  
  
“Fuck with the bull you get the horns,” chimed Draco.  
  
“Speaking of fuck,” Harry said, smirking, “when is Tom getting to your place? Is he staying on the night before he takes me to his shack?”

Draco shook his head. “Maybe tonight but he’s off to Snape’s for a few before shack time. Don’t get your hopes up about shagging him tonight, Har. He was saying some really strange things when I spoke to him this morning.”  
  
“Nothing bad, I hope.” Harry cringed. “I’m sort of nervous about staying on with his relatives. He’s told me stories about his uncle, he’s sounds barking.”

“Yeah,” Draco said, “stay close to Tom.”

* * *

“He’s here!” Harry hopped off of the enormous ceramic snake statue in the Malfoy’s foyer and ran to the ridiculously huge double doors to let Tom in.

Tom nearly buckled under Harry’s lunging weight. “Hey, you!” He leaned in to kiss him but Tom recoiled slightly, keeping it innocent.

“Get off of him,” Draco said. He stepped into the foyer and pointed back behind him. “Go tell Dobby to make us some popcorn.” He sauntered up to Tom the moment Harry was out of view, looking him over. “Is that real, about Snape? You’re going to try and stay chaste for him until you get there?”

“Why not?” Tom shrugged. “He asked me to. Maybe it’ll be interesting.”

Draco shook off the chill running down his spine. “Whatever floats your boat. You’re always doing strange things like this.”

“So er… what are our plans for tonight?” he inquired, changing the subject.　  
  
Draco snickered, looking back at the door to the kitchens. “I’m planning on getting into Harry’s knickers, duh. I got this idea from Seamus. He said Harry probably has a lot of trauma issues and such so I should rent a horror film. Then when the scary parts happen he’ll be crawling to get in my lap.”  
  
“He’d do that anyway,” Tom said, shrugging, “if you asked him to.”  
  
“Don’t fuck this up for me, church-boy.” Draco poked Tom in the chest. “The point is I don’t want to ask him. It’ll be like old times. Like we’re on a date and I’m taking advantage of him and he has no clue. That’s hot, yeah?”  
  
“And I do strange things?” Tom rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

* * *

The darkness of the study flickered with artificial light from the screen of the television. Tension grew, ominous music rose and Harry shrunk into the depths of the couch cushions with his hands over his eyes. “Oh,” he whimpered, peeking through his fingers cupped over his glasses to shield his vision. “I don’t like this.”  
  
Draco grabbed his wrists and pinned his hands in his lap. “Just watch it, prat.”  
  
“Stop making the sofa bounce,” whispered Tom, glaring at the boy beside Draco.　  
  
Crashing thunder and radiant lighting filled the room. A man in a mask, carrying a large butcher-knife, stepped out from behind the cabin. Harry gasped. He tussled with Draco for use of his hands. “Let go, please!” he begged, giggly and panicked.  
  
“No way,” Draco teased, easily subduing Harry in his arms. He held their hands in Harry’s lap, tensing his muscles in response to each ill-fated attempt of escape.　  
  
Tom’s mobile buzzed loudly. He waved a hand at the boys to hush them as he answered. “Hullo?”  
  
Draco licked his dry lips as he eased a hand between Harry’s thighs. He cupped it over his groin, feeling the boy’s body go rigid against him. The giggles abruptly stopped. Green eyes locked with grey.　  
  
“Ooh, but you’re a sicko, aren’t you?”　  
  
“ _Absolutely._ Ignore me, watch the screen.”　  
  
A quick glance at Tom assured Draco that he was more interested in the mobile call than what was occurring beside him. With a subtle shift of his of hips, Harry was snuggled tight against his chest. He played over the fine material of his pyjamas, teasing the flesh beneath to respond. He could feel him stiffen under his palm. He kissed the line of Harry’s jaw. The skin was taut, so smooth brushed against his mouth. “You still scared?” he whispered into his ear, with breath and heat that moved through Harry’s body and straight to the part in his thighs.  
  
“Yeah, some,” Harry panted, nearing his hips for more contact. The television screen went dark. Harry tensed up. “Maybe this isn’t the best time-”

 With another surreptitious gaze Tom’s way, Draco swept a hand up and under the waist of the pyjamas, while the other clamped over Harry’s noisy mouth. “ _Shh,_ ” he hissed on the earlobe trapped between his teeth. “We don’t want Tom joining in. Would ruin everything.”  
  
The screen flashed brilliant white - Harry gripped Draco’s arm. Tom yelped in surprise and bits of popcorn flew into the air. “No, stupid flick. I just got startled… ooh, did you like that? You like it scary, hmm? Oh, vampire movies? Yeah, I guess…”　  
  
Harry stared up at Draco, easing into the sensations of the thumb playing on the slit of his cock. Little puffy breaths from his nostrils tickled the tiny hairs on Draco’s fingers. A firm tug and a look of unwavering defiance from the blond drove the boy to slacken with compliance. Harry offered him his tongue and Draco took it, trapping it between his teeth and looking him in the eye with a lecherous gaze.

As he swiped the random kernels from Draco’s thigh, Tom’s fingers brushed past the bulge in his knickers. “Oh, sor—” He froze, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness at the opposite end of the settee. Harry pulled Draco on top of him. They were kissing so softly while their hips canted to press flat against the other; Harry’s hands under Draco’s shirt, Draco’s hands threaded in Harry’s hair. The sight was astounding. Biting a knuckle, Tom returned his attention to the conversation on the other end of the mobile. “I’m still here… Oh God, say that again, Severus,” he moaned, cupping a hand over the receiver and his mouth.　  
  
Gripping his jaw to force it open, Draco stabbed his tongue deep in Harry’s mouth. Now he was just showing off. Their lips were crushed from pressure; their tongues twisted and probed. Draco moaned throatily in drink, pleasuring Harry with every ounce of pent-up lust he held for him.  
  
“Fuck yes I want you,” Tom groaned into the phone, but his eyes were trained on Harry’s quivering form trapped on the sofa, rocking and wracked in high- pitched mews, bursting to come. “No, not too late—I’ll head over now.”  
  
A shrieking scream from the telly pierced the room. Tom jumped and Harry drew a sharp breath. He arched to meet Draco; to taste his tongue once more, to surrender to his wet mouth and vigorous thrusts. Tremendous warmth spread through him. The shuddering climax assailed him. Gripping the cushions, holding his breath, he came in Draco’s hand.　  
  
Tom stood with his back to them, pretending he knew nothing. “I’m off,” he said quietly, shifting the crotch of his jeans to ease the pressure of his throbbing arousal. “Snape can’t wait till tomorrow night to spend time with me. I probably won’t be—”  
  
“Whatever, bye,” snapped Draco as he pulled Harry into his embrace.　  
  
_“Let me take you upstairs,”_ 　Tom heard him say, and turned around. Draco was wiping the come on his fingers all over the sofa. Harry licked the corner of the blond’s mouth and rolled his pelvis over his aching erection. More whispers; cutting - so passion-fuelled and yearning. “So fucking hot, baby, you come so prettily. I wanna make love to you. Let me take you to upstairs, please…”  
  
Tom left the room with gritted teeth, ignored, set to sleep with a Professor he had no desire for.  
   


	14. Little Hangelton: Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom struggles with his place in the world, not knowing who he really is. On top of that, he and Draco are getting more than a little suspicious of Harry's budding relationship with Lord Voldemort.

Sitting in a quaint little cafe on the outskirts of the city, Draco found himself in a terrible mood. He sipped at his tea, deep in thought. His legs were propped up on an empty chair beside him. He flipped through the pages of a magazine he’d nicked from the counter. Harry was sitting across from him, his attention directed to the large variety of all the little cakes in front of him, sitting on a large platter that had just arrived. He took a large swig of his fizzy cherry soda and popped one into his mouth. Immediately, he leaned back against his chair and moaned with delight. “Oh god, that was so good. Have another? Don’t mind if I do.”

Draco looked down at his mobile as it began buzzing again. Without reading the name of the caller, he frowned. “Do you think I should try and fake my father’s voice?” He had been fretting all afternoon. Lord Voldemort had called Harry three time that day already, checking up on his little golden boy, making certain he wasn’t up to any mischief.

Harry shook his head. “He’s really good at figuring out if you’re lying to him.” He held his hand out and flicked his fingers upward. “Just give it. I’ll talk to him.”

“What if he wants to come pick you up?” Draco dropped his napkin over the mobile phone. “Didn’t he say earlier he was thinking about it?”

“That was an empty threat because I sassed him.” Harry snatched the napkin. “Give it.”

Long fingers slid the buzzing contraption back closer to its owner, farther from the caller’s charge. Listening to Harry speak with Lord Voldemort throughout the week as they chatted on the telephone had brought new worry to the blond. They got on so well. Harry was always thrilled when he called him. He talked about him excessively. But even that didn’t compare to what Voldemort had done to cover up Harry’s injury: he tattooed his signature mark on the boy’s arse. It wasn’t anything like his or Tom’s tattoos; it was intricately detailed with a large tree python coiled around a crystal skull. It’s body was threaded between the skull’s teeth, its tail trailed across his right buttock and halfway down the back of his thigh, while its neck curled around his left hip. Its mouth, open, with fangs popped and ready to strike lay just to the side of his groin. It was a blatant marking of claim, Draco was positive. It was fucking disgusting. “He sure does ring us a lot. Let’s ignore it.” And, of course, Harry thought it was the bee’s knees. He stared at the blasted thing in the mirror whenever he got a chance.

An index finger tapped on the table with impatience. “If you thought he’d pick me up if I answered, what do you think will happen if I don’t?”

Trepidation paused Draco’s fingers on the mobile for a moment. He sighed, knowing Harry had made a good point. The mobile phone was pushed closer to the black haired boy. It stopped ringing. Draco grinned. “Oh damn. He hung up.”

Harry gave him an overly-dramatic surprised expression and slapped his hands to his cheeks. “Oh no, what if that was Professor Black using Lord Voldemort’s mobile? He’ll be so cross. Maybe he’ll come pick you up!” Draco gaped at him, insulted. Harry swept in and snatched the phone away.

“If you answer it he’ll pick you up. He’ll take you away from me. What if he takes you to Pettigrew’s?” Draco dropped his head and began picking at imaginary skin bits around fingernails, hiding his pouting lip.

Harry kicked Draco’s chair to get his attention. “He’s not even in the country, dunce. He won’t be home until after the new year.” He looked at the mobile as it started ringing again and snorted. “Ha! It’s not even him. Hello, Tom… Ah, yes, must have had the ringer off, sorry.” He held the mobile away from his mouth. “He wants to know if you’re coming with to his mum’s tomorrow.”

Draco shrugged. “I have to go to my aunt’s for Boxing Day. Maybe I’ll meet you at Riddle House when you get there.”

Harry smiled. “Good, I’m holding you to that.”

* * *

Tom’s personal set of wheels was very modest, so unlike Draco’s. The roadster’s motor hummed softly. Harry leaned back into the plush leather seat and closed his eyes. He always felt very safe in Tom’s presence. “How was Snape’s?” he asked. The engine suddenly roared as Tom threw it into top gear. Harry felt pinned to his seat for a moment before adjusting to the momentum. “That bad, eh?”

He looked miserable. “Ugh, it was awkward. We literally have nothing in common. I really gave it my best shot this time. He wants this relationship to be more than a school fling but he’s just so religious. Not to mention his house smells like old people."

Harry watched Tom in his peripheral vision. His handsome features were glowing as the sun began to set and shined gold rays of light upon them. His normally dark eyes were illuminated, green flecks in the velvet brown irises; the deepest darkest green Harry had ever seen. He had colour when we was always colourless. As Harry watched he realised the colour was not from Tom’s eyes but from his soul; seeing, witnessing firsthand his pained expression as he agonised over another mistake he may have hastily jumped into. He was fully human, he made mistakes and he paid for them. It made him look vulnerable - and to Harry that was a very pleasing trait to have, especially for one with so much to control.

He watched Tom steal glances back at him every so often, watch the flush spread across his cheek when he’d see Harry catching his gaze. “Why are you staring at me?” he asked, hiding a titter behind his hand. “It’s unnerving.”

“Oh, sorry, “ Harry said, fully embarrassed. There was a hint of sadness in his voice. “Didn’t mean to unnerve you. I’ll go back to sleep.”

Tom always found a way to make good things seem bad and bad things seem important. Had he only said something nice, Harry would still be looking up at him with smiling eyes. He wasn’t comfortable in his own skin. He wasn’t sure who he was supposed to be. He looked back at Harry, who had reclined in his seat and removed his glasses. The words, ‘you didn’t unnerve me’ were stuck in his throat. He had a very difficult time not being nasty, not instantly retorting to anything thrown his way. It was a part of him, it was something he had grown up doing.

His father was wealthy and very important, but his father had not taken custody of him until he was eight. They had visits, outings, photo calls, Au Pairs so he could entertain. Mostly, he was at a boarding school or at the House of Gaunt. Being really tall and too thin and overly smart and utterly handsome in a boarding school full of boys had not gone over very well, especially when your father is a notorious gangster. He had to be ready to fight back, to take the jeering, to give it back in spades. He never let anyone see him cry. He never let anyone take advantage of him. He steeled himself for whatever might come up and he dealt with the consequences.

And if boarding school wasn’t bad enough, it was the holidays that had truly shaped Tom’s cold, hard exterior. Passing the wooden signs, following the one that pointed toward Little Hangelton, he placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder to rouse him. “We’re almost here. It’s not quite their bedtime yet, you’ll need to be fully awake. 

* * *

As Tom stepped out onto the edge of the copse of the woods, Harry carefully studied the movement of the trees swaying to and fro over the entrance. He wasn’t sure the brush had ever grown as thick, enough to shield his vision from between him and the house. It was slightly jarring to think that _he_ might be anywhere back there, hidden in the shelter, watching him ponder and fret. Nothing amused _him_ as much as watching Tom ponder and fret.

Harry was beside Tom now, their luggage he retrieved from the boot was now resting at their feet. Harry watched him, wondering what was causing him to breathe so heavily through his nostrils and ball his hands into fists so tight his knuckles glowed white. “Alright, Riddle?” he whispered, as an odd feeling began to crawl over his skin. Someone was watching them. Tom could sense it and so could Harry.

_“~You come back.~”_

Tom and Harry jumped, having both worked themselves into a near frenzy. They scanned over the mass of brush, honing in on the sound.

_“~Brought your girlfriend, eh?~”_

Harry sneered. “I’m not a girl!” he shouted back. He gave Tom’s sleeve a tug. “Who is that?”

Tom froze. “You understood him?” He pulled something from his pocket and clicked it.

Harry gave him a nod.

“You’re like the first person I’ve known who could.” Tom grabbed his bags. “Fuck off, Morfin. I’ve got pepper spray. Remember how that feels, you pig?”

Harry grabbed up his bag and hurried to catch up with Tom, who had disappeared into the thick expanse of bushes in front of him. Taking a deep breath, he pushed forward through it and bumped into something very solid on the other side. He bounced off of him and fell on his back. Looking up, he knew he had seen this man before, during visiting day, but being so close now made it horrifying. Morfin Gaunt hunched over the boy, his matted hair and beard inching closer to his face.

“~ _Who are ya, then, runt? You’re not welcome_.~”

He was holding a stick and a dirty knife in a threatening manner at the boy on the ground.

“Cover your eyes, Har!” Tom had shouted and Harry pulled his jumper up over his face and rolled off to the side.

_*spzzzt, spzzzzzt*_

A tortured howl split through the terror of the dark night. Morfin covered his face and ran off into the woods. Tom placed his pepper spray back into his pocket and waved his jacket back and forth over the spot above Harry. “It’s okay now, you can pull that down.” He held out his hand.

Harry took it. “Thanks.” He brushed the twigs and leaves off of his clothes and looked around to be sure that monster had no chance of jumping them. “He’s terrifying. Why was he holding those weapons?”

Where at one time Morfin Gaunt was indeed a terrifying force of nature who brought his psychotic wrath down upon the poor defenceless child, it appeared that wasn’t quite the case any more. “He thinks he’s a Jedi or something. The knife is retractable. He’s just a harmless old tramp.” 

* * *

In the tiny living area lit by oil lamps and the orange glow of a potbelly stove, Merope Riddle sat in the centre of the room. Tom and Harry were crammed against either side of the dirty understuffed chair she was perched in, her arm around each boy to keep them anchored down. Her spirits were high. She couldn’t wipe the smile off her face if she tried. “I’m so happy you’re here. I can’t believe he let you visit.”

Merope was very good at manipulating Lord Voldemort. She had a pull over him that baffled Harry. Tom snuggled into her side and dropped his head on her shoulder. Harry looked around the room, taking it all in. Everything was old and worn and dirty. The floor looked as if it could be made of dirt. There was a threadbare rug covering most of the room. It was so filthy he couldn’t make out what colour it was. The home smelled very funny, he wasn’t sure he could ever get used to it. Merope squeezed him closer to her bosom, breaking his reverie. “I’m glad he brought you. I’ve heard so much about little Harry Potter and his wild adventures. How is school, boys?”

Harry shrugged. “Fine.”

“It’s okay.” Tom counted in his head to see how long it would take before she asked about his father. _One, two, thr-_

“How’s Tom been? Is he seeing anyone?”

Harry looked at her, confused.

Tom looked up at him with a snort. “I was named after my father, Harry. He just uses his title to make himself sound really important.” He laid his head back on his mother’s shoulder. “He’s still a monster and, yes, he’s engaged to some new sucker he plans to strip clean of her wealth before he throws her under some random bus.”

Merope nodded. “I see…”

Sighing, Tom slipped fully into his mother’s lap. Although he was much larger than her, he seemed to fit perfectly. “Stop thinking about him.”

Harry’s heart melted watching his Tom fawn over and coddle his poor old mother. She was certainly no beauty; she was way older than Lord Voldemort. He had a very hard time picturing them together for any reason. There was possibly some trauma in her life seemingly etched into her wrinkled face and stripped through her dull hair. Her eyes wobbled around, never centring on a thing. Her threadbare clothes were an awful shade of dingy grey. The House of Gaunt, itself, was exactly as Tom described it: it lacked electricity and running water. Wolves were baying at the moon just outside; their howls entered through gaping holes in the ceiling that echoed around the tiny room.

Harry looked at his thumb for a moment before deciding he didn’t need it. Instead, he snuggled deeper into Merope’s side. She eagerly pulled him into her lap, next to Tom, and kissed his cheek. She played with his short wild hair, curling it around her fingers while rocking both boys and humming a sweet lullaby. “My new angel. I’ve never seen my boy so happy. You’ve changed him.” And Harry knew in an instant that he was very wrong about his first impression of Merope; she was very beautiful.

* * *

It was cold. No, it was more than cold - it was freezing. Tom’s teeth clattered uncontrollably against the shell of Harry’s ear. He wrapped his arms around the smaller boy, pulling him closer into the crook of his form to create more body heat between them. Harry wedged his freezing toes between Tom’s calves. They could see their misty breath in the light of the full moon beaming into the curtain-less window. They shivered as one, unable to find any rest in the tiny room, curled up on the child-sized bed. And the worst part was they found it impossible to block out the sounds of rusty bedsprings depressing in the next room.

* _Eeeeeeret, eeeeeeret, eeeeeeret*_

Harry was unable to stifle his awkward giggle. “It sounds like someone is having sex in there.”

“Ignore it,” Tom said quickly, blushing. "Just pretend you can't hear that."

It grew in sound and speed. _*Eeret, eeret, eeret, eeret, eeret, eeret*_

“I can’t,” Harry said. He nudged his house-mate in a playfil manner. “I thought you said Morfin was your mum’s brother. It sort of sounds like they're fucking."”

Tom wanted to crawl into a hole and die. “You have to stay warm somehow," he attempted to rationalize. The instant he said it he knew he was in trouble.

Harry was on his hands and knees in a heartbeat, grabbing up Tom’s wrists. He easily pinned them over his head and locked his knees on each side of the larger boy’s torso. “Keeps you warm, you say?” He leaned in, his hot breath warming Tom’s chilled skin. “You know the old saying; if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.”

Tom smirked. “You want to join my mother and Morfin?”

Ignoring his sarcasm, Harry returned the snarky grin. “Be quiet, tit. That’s an order!”

For the briefest of moments he pondered whether this was something he should put a stop to before they went too far. He had said he would try and make a commitment to Snape just that morning. Instead, “Oh no, someone help me, please! I’m about to be plundered by a right wanker!” he whimpered, almost silently. Harry lit up. He cupped his hand over Tom’s mouth to quiet him but had freed the larger boy’s hands in the process. Tom grabbed him around the middle and pushed up from the mattress and slammed Harry onto his back before he could react.

“No,” Harry whined under his breath.

* _Eret, eret, eret, eret, eret, eret*_

It was almost unbearably frigid, the sounds of bedsprings overpowered their senses. Tom looked at the prize trapped beneath him; Harry’s teeth were clattering worse than his. “Ah,” he said, releasing him and jumping off the bed. He grabbed his keys and the threadbare duvet they were sharing and gestured for Harry to wrap up with him. “Grab your clothes. I know where we can go.” 

* * *

The roadster was still running cold when they stopped at the only traffic light in the middle of downtown Little Hangelton. “Look up there,” Tom said, pointing to a large hill. There was an ominous looking mansion built into it at the top. “That’s Riddle House. That’s where me and my father live.”

“Is that where we’re going?” Harry asked, feeling slightly intimidated. The dark silhouette of the house looked like something he’d seen in one of those horror films Draco made him watch. “Is it haunted?”

Tom scoffed as he pulled up to the electronic gates blocking the drive up to the top. “There’s no such things as ghosts, silly. Wait till we get inside, it’s really overly decorated and gaudy as hell. He lets whatever lady friend he’s seeing at the time decorate to their tastes. I swear it gets worse with each one.”

Harry’s nose crinkled. “Does he have a girlfriend right now?”

“He’s got a fiance and there’s Romilda Vane. She’s not really a girlfriend, I don’t think. She’s more like a companion or escort or something. She travels with him and goes to things where there might be photographers. She looks good next to him, but she annoys me. He’s engaged to Hestia Carrow. She’s… you know, she’s filthy rich and really not pretty and will be stony-broke like the others within the year. She’s got a twin sister, too. He can’t tell them apart. He calls one ‘Fluffy’ and the other ‘Fido’.”

As if he hadn’t heard anything other than Romilda Vane, Harry stiffened up while Tom entered the code in the keypad. “What’s a companion mean? Like, are they in love or it’s just for show…?”

Tom glanced over his shoulder as he accelerated into the incline. “Aren’t you curious about my father’s affairs.”

Harry looked out the window to avoid his judgement. “I was wondering if she’ll be there after the new year, that’s all.”

“Oh, for sure,” Tom said happily, “she’s always around. She lives here sometimes. Got her own chambers.”

“That’s nice,” Harry murmured angrily, and Tom stifled the urge to question him further. “She’s not here now, is she?” Harry asked as they parked outside of the front of the dark manor. Tom unlocked the front door and typed in another code to silence the alarm before it went off. He depressed another button on the wall and the lights in the foyer began to glow.

Tom watched him carefully. “Oh no, she’s with him in Italy right now. They’re spending disgusting amounts of his money. They do that a lot.”

Harry was terrible at masking his emotions. He audibly sniffled. “I see.” Shaking off the stab of jealousy, he looked at the home for the first time and gasped. The house was like a preserved antique. The ceiling was two floors high, the walls were panelled in dark wood, the floor was an expanse of polished marble. There were deep greens and browns adorning almost everything. Expensive paintings and sculptures lined the walkways toward the first sitting room.

He followed Tom as they made their way through the old mansion, stopping at a split staircase. Tom gave him a little shove towards the right side. “Up the stairs, take a right and go all the way down. My room is the second to the last on the right. I’ll be up in a minute, gonna make us something to eat.”

The instant Harry was out of sight, Tom flipped his mobile open. He wandered into the kitchens. The crisper was stocked full. He grabbed a bottle of red wine. “Oi, Malfoy,” he said under his breath, “it’s worse than you thought. Nah, I got him here at Riddle House- No, he’s still away, but you should see how our baby reacted when I told him about Ms Vane… Uh huh, yep, he like nearly started blubbering. No, I’m serious.” He grabbed two wine glasses off the rack and a bag of crisps from the cupboard. “That’s your advice? Okay, no, okay, I’ll try it… Just be here by the new year? Right.”

* * *

Harry was on Tom’s lavish antique bed. He was lying on his stomach, clad in a too-large white cotton shirt and his knickers, kicking his feet up and down as Tom entered the room. The tail of the green snake was clearly visible on the back of his thigh. Tom’s lip twitched. Everything Malfoy had told him seemed to have a ring of truth to it. Harry was falling in love with his father.

“Loads better than the igloo, eh?” Tom asked. He wrenched the cork out of the bottle of wine with his teeth and handed Harry an empty glass. “Quieter, too.” He poured them a drink.

Harry emptied it in one gulp. “Yeah, it’s great.” He set his glass down and rolled onto his back. “Okay, we gonna fuck? How do you want me?”

Tom frowned. Harry was sort of just lying there with a glassy eyed stare, looking at absolutely nothing. He poured him another glass of wine. “I want you loose. Tonight is your night. I want you to get a little tipsy then I’ll let you take advantage of me.”

“What?” Harry sat up quickly, a mixture of embarrassment and intrigue was trying desperately to plaster itself in a smile on his face. Unable to contain it, Harry began to giggle. He covered his mouth and looked away, blushing hot. He knew Tom didn’t fancy him. The idea of forcing him into sex he might not like did not appeal to Harry one bit. The giggles died down and he smiled at the larger boy. “I’m good, thanks.”

“Stop it.” Tom sat down on his knees next to Harry. He gave him a little shake to loosen him up. “Relax. What do you want me to do?”

Harry shrugged. “Snuggle with me and fall asleep in my arms.”

“Oh?” Tom was taken a back. “That’s it?”

Harry squeaked. “No?”

“Oh! No, yes. I mean I will!” Tom said eagerly. “Of course I will. I just assumed it would be something… never mind, budge over.”

Harry looked at his face to be sure he wasn’t forcing him into this. “If you’re sure.”

“Course.” Tom smiled. “I’m all yours.”

Harry made room on the bed for Tom to wiggle in. He held up a finger, uncertainty still shadowing his visage. “And you won’t suddenly overpower me and flip me onto my back, right?”

“No,” Tom said. He flopped back and curled up in the crook of Harry’s body, letting him pull him in closer. “I’m not doing a damn thing other than snuggling against you and falling asleep in your arms.”

The sounds of a old grandfather clock chimed in the distance. Harry counted each of its tolls until it ended at twelve. He leaned up and kissed the boy in his arms on the cheek. “Night, Tom, I love you. Happy Christmas.”

Tom curled his fingers around Harry’s hands. “Happy Christmas. I love you, too, Harry.”

Harry closed his eyes. His smile was as wide as ever.

* * *

The afternoon hours of Christmas day were frigid and windy. A healthy dusting of powered snow blanketed the ground in wisps and waves, shaped by the fluctuating gusts. As the tiny shack came into view, Tom dragged Harry through the heavy brush and pulled him inside the house, ignoring his deranged uncle’s nasty taunts and pebbles he’d thrown in their direction from a tall tree where he sat. The little hovel was abuzz with song and dancing. There was tinsel strewn about all over everything. A not-so-pleasant odour wafted into and flooded the main room from the tiny adjacent kitchen. Merope Riddle stopped her awkward motions in mid-step to greet the boys.

“Happy Christmas!” she sang, before dousing them both with heap-fulls of tinsel.

They returned the greeting while they began freeing themselves from the overwhelming strands of silver and gold. Merope returned her attention to the tiny, misshapen Christmas tree propped up against her understuffed armchair and finished applying all of the glittery threads and various baubles she had stashed within her torn, stained apron. Underneath the tree sat two decent sized presents wrapped in pretty paper and accented with shiny ribbon. Harry and Tom tossed their gifts to her next to them and sat down beside the potbelly stove to relax and gather up the small amount of heat it was currently giving off.

“I’d thought you’d be here earlier. I actually thought you’d spent the night here,” she said, appearing slightly troubled as she looked into the kitchen. “I’ve been preparing a good supper all day. Something’s not turned out, though. Something smells off.”

“You can say that again,” Tom said under his breath as he rose from the hearth and crossed the room to take her into his arms. He encircled her waist and pulled her into him, resting his chin on her shoulder. “I’ve filled my boot with loads of things to eat. But I was hoping you’d just come back to Riddle House with us and spend the holiday there. C’mon, mummy,” he asked pleadingly.

Harry watched her blush and close her eyes with shame, something he seemed to understand.

Merope’s head drooped as it swayed from side to side. “I don’t like that place. You and Harry go.”

The younger boy rose up quickly and crossed the room, throwing his arms around her and Tom. “We’re staying right here.”

“Yes,” Tom whispered, feeling very warm and loved in the tiny tinsel-covered room. Merope rested a palm on each boy’s cheek, one in front, one behind, and smiled as she had never smiled before. For once in a very long time, everything was just right within the House of Gaunt. 

* * *

 Try as she might to wait until Boxing Day, Merope threw her hands up in the air and screamed, causing Tom and Harry to jump with fright. “I can’t hold it in anymore!” She pointed at the two gifts from her under the sad tree. “Open them, please!”

 Shrugging, both boys dropped down in front of the tree and grabbed up the presents. They were heavy in their hands. Discerning which gift went to who, Tom cringed a little and nudged Harry before he said anything. There was a crude drawing of a stick figure on one, it was very long. The other had another child-like drawing of a shorter stick figure wearing glasses on it. “She can’t read or write well,” Tom whispered in his ear.

“Open them!” Merope shouted, unable to contain her excitement any longer.

Tom tore the package open and blinked. He looked into Harry’s open box. They had been given the same thing. “Ice skates?”

Merope held up another pair and hopped up and down. “The pond is frozen solid!”

The boys looked at each other and shrugged. “I hope these fit,” Tom remarked, checking the size stamped on the inner part of the skate’s tongue. It was his size. Harry’s were his size, too. He looked up at his mother. “How did you know what sizes to get? You haven’t bought me shoes in years.”

“I looked for you last night but you weren’t here. I figured you’d gone to Riddle House so I sent Morfin up there to measure you both.”

“Uh…” Tom blanched. He wasn’t sure what was worse; knowing Morfin could bypass the security alarms to get inside or the fact that he was in the room with Harry and he while they slept.

“We drove up to that Asda; the big, gigantic store that has everything and is open day and night to purchase them. The place had been near cleaned out, we were lucky to find them,” she remarked. She walked over to the kitchen nook and grabbed the boys’ jackets. She tossed them at them, still smiling like a fool. “Let’s go!” 

* * *

Tom sat on the large rock on the edge of the pond and toed off his loafers. Merope sat down beside him. Harry already had his skates on and was testing the strength of the ice. “He’s so stupidly brave sometimes, and completely trusting. It’s a wonder he’s not already dead,” Tom said in his mother’s ear.

“He’s done something to you,” she replied as she laced her skate up. “I like him with you.”

“Nah, he’s got something going with Draco. I mean… we fuck sometimes but he and Draco are much closer.”

Merope blinked. “That filthy mouth of yours will be the death of me, Tom. You can repent later.” She stood up, taking his hand. They dropped off the boulder onto the frozen ground. “Malfoy is no good. He broke your heart. He’ll break his heart. You should take Harry.”

Tom shrugged. “I don’t know, mum. I’ve never been very good at having someone fall in love with me. I’ve done a bang up job in screwing it up between us already.”

“Try being you. You’re cold to him, stop being on the defence all the time.”

“I am?” Tom let Merope pull him into the centre of the pond. She took both of his hands and they began skating in a circle, facing each other. “I hadn’t realised.” They turned faster and faster until Merope leaned back and aimed her son at Harry and let his hands go. Harry gasped and threw his arms out as Tom crashed into him. They landed hard on the ice. “Are you alright?” Tom pulled Harry into his arms and checked him over. “Did you hit your head?”

“No, I’m good. Your mum’s hat absorbed the-” Tom silenced him with a kiss.

Harry put his hands on Tom’s shoulders to break the kiss. His eyes were large and searching. “What are you doing?” he asked in a whisper. The tension between them grew. He and Tom had a good bond but this felt different. It felt really nice. And he was so handsome looking down at him with a little crooked smile, forcing one of his dimples to appear on his cheek. Harry felt himself smile in return. His arms moved up, fingers locked as Tom cupped the nape of his neck for another kiss.

“I’m done. Have fun, boys,” Merope said as she left the pond. She slung her skates over her shoulder and entered the woods, triumphant smile set in place. She hadn’t noticed her brother up in the tree as she passed him. He was staring down at the boys lying on the ice, kissing.

“~ _Wicked, sinners, the devil’s work. I’ll teach you both a lesson you’ll never forget_.~”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is kind of dark, but nothing horrible happens. Just scary. There's a lot of backstory on Tom and Voldemort. I need to get the plot (I know, rite, what?) moving along before the boys head back to school. 
> 
> As always, if you liked it and haven't already, give me kudos!


	15. Little Hangelton: Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deranged lunatic Morfin Gaunt thinks he has all the time in the world to terrorize Tom and Harry but a newfound emotion, his guilty conscience, prickles at Lord Voldemort, forcing his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the least funny chapter I’ve written for this tale as of yet. I am considering toning the humor down and focusing on the romance. The story will get a little darker at this point but no where near its original state. This chapter and the one before gives you an idea of Tom’s and Voldemort’s back story and why they both have a little nastiness in them. If you like it give me kudos, please!

 

　

“~ _Eh.~_ ” _*Poke, poke*_ ”~ _Wake up runt.~_ ”

“Bugger off, Draco.” Harry rolled onto his side.

“~ _Wakey, wakey_.~” Harry opened one eye and groped out over the bedside table to find his glasses. Blurredly, he saw them being dangled above him. He reached out to grab them but the scary man pulled back. Morfin held a finger over his pursed lips. “~ _Don’t stir Tom. Got a surprise to show ya. It’s all set up. Get up so I can show ya_.~”

It was dark in the tiny bedroom. Tom was wrapped up in several comforters he’d taken from Riddle House, sound asleep and snoring like a chain saw. Harry looked back up at the man standing over him. He was smiling at him. Although it was hard to see in the darkness, Morfin’s strange attempt at a kind gesture was downright frightening. He was missing several teeth and as he grinned it made his mismatched eyes wobble around a bit too much. Harry began receding into the middle of the bed. “Uh…”

Morfin stuffed Harry’s glasses into his overalls pocket and grabbed the boy’s hand, yanking him up to his feet. “~ _Quiet, now. Don’ wanna wake everyone up, do we, runt?~_ ”

Feeling fortunate he was wearing warm pyjamas and a thick pair of socks, Harry half-let himself be dragged across the freezing home, stupidly thinking they would be staying indoors. Morfin threw the front door open and shoved the boy through it. “Wait, I need my shoes if we’re going outside,” Harry hissed, tensing as the bitterly cold winds whipped around him to assault his nerve endings. Something didn’t feel right. Harry was far too optimistic and naive to think to put a stop to this. For all he knew, Morfin was a really kind and fun person underneath all that hair and dirt. Unfortunately, it was then that Harry caught sight of a dead snake dangling on the front door by a nail that had been hammered through it. Morfin closed it and grabbed the boy’s arm, dragging him off into the woods before he could find his voice to scream.

* * *

Some time later, a silver Maybach pulled into the copse of the woods, flooding the dark opening with artificial light. It hummed in idle as a man dressed in a dark suit and cap got out of the driver’s seat and ran around to the back door, opening it for his employer. “We’re here, sir,” he said, bowing and gesturing to the small opening in the woods that led to the run-down shack.

Stepping out of the vehicle, Lord Voldemort pulled his overcoat on and stuck his head back in for a moment. “Stay here, I’ll see if the boys are fit to head up.” Something in him wanted to cut his vacation short. Boxing day was in the morning and all he wanted to do now was drown Tom and Harry in as many material items that he had purchased or taken from whoever had what he wanted. Something else had been gnawing at his psyche all day. He couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was but the feeling that something might be wrong kept making its appearance in his head. It poked hard at him, forcing him to cut his holiday short. He had tried to telephone the House of Gaunt but their number had been disconnected. Tom hadn’t answered his mobile, either.

“Oh, what in the bloody hell…” Lord Voldemort grabbed the dead snake and ripped it off the nail. He threw it behind him and rapped his gloved knuckles on the warped, peeling wood. He waited, listening to silence before knocking again. He jiggled the knob. It was locked. “Merope, open the sodding door,” he hissed, now kicking the unstable blockage with the tip of his shoe. His patience wore thin through the cold seeping into in overcoat. He gritted his teeth and began to hiss in a soft slurring tongue he normally hid from outsiders. No one but his kin and he could speak it anyway. " _~Open the door before I kick it off its hinges, Merry.~"_

Something began stirring from inside. After a minute the door rattled and opened. Tom, as if  looking into a mirror, squinted to focus on who was knocking. “What are you doing here, dad?”

Lord Voldemort gave him a nod and stepped inside, sneer set firmly in place. He gave his son's shoulder a tap to get him moving. “Get your things. And tell Harry to get dressed; we’re going home,” he said in a low voice, as he gazed around at the innards of the shack. He hated this place. “Smells really bad…” He looked around the decrepit surroundings, second guessing his allowance of letting the boys stay here until his return. The potbelly stove sat cold in the middle of the living area. “It’s freezing in here. Are they incapable of gathering wood?” He grabbed a dirty skillet off the stove and began banging it against the cold surface. “Hurry up, get your stuff. Harry, wake up and gather your things. Let’s go. It’s freezing in here.”

“There was loads of wood there earlier,” Tom said, shrugging and holding his hands over his ears. He checked his bedroom again, then went to his mother’s. He returned, scratching his head in confusion. “He’s not here,” he mumbled, and tossed his bag on the chair. “His stuff is here…”

“What?” Lord Voldemort’s senses were suddenly heightened. Adrenaline soared through his veins, forcing a rush of panic to stimulate movement. He was already dialling a number on his mobile as he dashed to each bedroom, rousing Merope awake in the process by flipping her mattress over to be sure Harry wasn’t hiding under it. He stopped as he returned to the sitting room, scowling, looking over each shoulder before centring back on Tom. His eyes went scarlet with dismay.  He rarely raised his voice, and only did so when he was very cross. And at that moment he was, Tom noted, very cross.  _“~WHERE IS MORFIN!?~_ ”

“He’s…” Tom froze. The blood drained from his face as he suddenly realised what his father was so angry about. “He’s not here either!”

* * *

The pond stood frozen and silent. The moon illuminated the small clearing with its silvery glow. The tracks from their earlier skating were still visible. Harry was looking at a shape of a heart that had been etched into the ice near the side of the pond by a large boulder. He sniffled. His nose was running from the frigid cold. Snot was leaking down onto his lip, it was freezing on his skin and hard to endure. If only he could wipe it off. Unfortunately, his hands were bound together and stretched taut over his head, attached to a metal loop protruding from the stake he was standing up against. Morfin was winding more rope around him from head to toe, ensuring there would be no escape. “I don't like this. You're scaring me!”

“~ _Quit yer cryin', heretic.~_ ” Morfin balled up a dirty rag he pulled from his pocket and held it up to Harry’s face. “~ _Open your mouth_.~”

Harry gasped. "OhmyGod, no! _Someone help me!"_

Morfin forcefully jammed the cloth into his mouth and threaded a length of rope between his teeth, securing it tightly at the nape of his neck to keep him from spitting it out. He checked over the knots carefully, making quite sure the little sinner had no chance to escape. Only then did he make his way to the large pile of wood set off to the side of the small clearing. Piece by piece he began stacking it around the stake Harry was tied to. “~ _Unclean you and Tom are, the two of yas kissin’ like you love each other. Rotten dirty heathens.~_ ”

Harry panicked as the awful man’s words resonated with clarity. He was not brought there to watch him perform magic tricks after all, he was going to be burned alive at the stake for kissing Tom. He yanked at the ropes and screamed as loud as he could. A large hand flew up and slapped over his mouth, further quieting his outburst.

“~ _Quiet, runt. Burn you will, you and Tom will be cleansed of this evil curse. No stoppin’ me now.~_ ” Morfin smiled at him. “~ _Don’t go anywhere, little evildoer. Gonna go bring Tom back so I can set ya both on fire as one.~_ ”

_“Stop!”_

The word rang out from the darkness of the woods. Harry’s breath hitched. Morfin began to growl lowly like a dog. He ran off into a thatch of trees, disappearing within before being caught. Tom emerged from the side. He ran as hard and fast as he could until he slammed up against Harry. Immediately, he began working around the ropes, looking for the knots he could untie.

“Holy hell, baby! Are you okay?” he panted, out of breath.

Harry looked up, over Tom’s shoulder and gasped. His eyes grew huge.

Tom whirled around to face Morfin, who was standing there holding a large chunk of wood over his head. Before he could think to move, it came crashing down on top of him.

* * *

When he came to, Tom found himself bound tightly to the stake, with his hands strung up over his head, and he was gagged with a wadded up teacloth as Harry was. He could feel Harry trembling against him with cold and fright. He was whimpering and sniffling, so frightened for them both. Tom would have given anything at that moment to comfort the boy and let him know that Lord Voldemort was out there searching for them, that he was close, and that he would find them soon enough to put a stop to this madness. He looked around for Morfin, but he was gone. They could do nothing else but stand there in the freezing cold - and wait.

Harry was shaking so badly he was causing the stake they had their backs against to vibrate. He was clad only in his pyjamas, whereas Tom had thought to throw on a jacket before running blindly into the woods to find him. He had no idea how long Harry had been missing before he woke up. He was beginning to really worry. He arched a shoulder back, touching Harry with it. Harry leaned back against it for comfort. He whinged, fearing the worst was coming to both of them.

“~ _You awake yet, you filthy infidel?~_ ”

Tom bit down on the rope between his teeth, sneering in hatred for the man who terrorised him from the day he was born. He refused to acknowledge Morfin. The old tramp was taking this prank way too far, dragging Harry into his twisted games he was so insanely fond of when Tom was a boy. He was sure that Harry had no idea this was just another sick joke the old tramp played, he probably thought he was really going to be set on fire - and that broke his heart.

Morfin stood in front of the tall boy, grinning a near-toothless grin. “~ _Eh, you frightened yet, Tommy?~_ ”

Tom looked away and rolled his eyes, refusing to give the old man another speck of his attention.

Morfin frowned. He slapped Tom across the face to get him to look at him. “~ _Don’t you dare ignore me!~_ ”

The sting brought tears to his eyes. He closed them tightly, preparing for another slap. His face had yet to fully heal from his last assault in his dorm room. This damage, along with the bump swelling on his scalp would only add to the yellowing bruises under his eyes. Slapped again, he tucked his chin into his chest, letting the pain subside for as long as he could keep it there. He waited - but the third never came. He opened his eyes, seeing Morfin fiddling with the fire wood on the ground.

Behind the old man, he saw his father in the distance. He was partially hidden by a tree, and he was holding a index finger to his lips.

Tom gave him a quick nod to acknowledge him. It was then he decided to finally give Morfin exactly what he wanted. "'uck ooh," he tried to say, adding a hint of fear in his insult to give the creepy old tramp the thrill he desired.

Morfin stood up, eyes alight with glee. “~ _Scared now, eh? Lookit you, Tommy, so frightened! See the logs I’m buildin’? Gonna burn the sin outta yas, I am_.~”

Lord Voldemort held a hand up above his head for a brief moment before pointing at the man who was holding his son and charge captive. “ _Make it agonising_ ,” he ordered, as three cloaked and masked Death Eaters emerged from the darkness and charged forth. Within seconds, Morfin was on the ground in a fit of spasms, illuminated by an arc of blue light emanating from a stun gun.

The Death Eaters raised their batons over the man as Lord Voldemort emerged from trees. He held out his hand as he passed one of his faithful. “Your stiletto, Yaxley." One was immediately placed in his palm. He unlocked the blade, feeling it thrust into position as he reached his son. He yanked the gag out of his mouth. “Are you alright, son?” he asked him, checking his eyes, touching his battered face as he started studying the ropes encircling he and his lover.

“I’m okay,” Tom replied. “Dad, please, cut Harry free first.”

Voldemort gave him a swift nod. “I'm working on it. Hang tight, you two.” He commenced with cutting the ropes wound around his son, sawing at them with all his strength, as the weapon he was using was more designed for stabbing rather than cutting. The bindings kept both boys trapped to the pole. He had to cut the one around his son first, as much as he would have loved to free them both at the same time.

"Hey, baby. It's okay," he spoke as he threaded his fingers through the rope strung tightly between Harry’s teeth. He pulled it down to extract the filthy rag trapped in his mouth by it. “I’ll have you both down in a minute. Hang in there.” He gave the boy's frosty cheek a gentle pat for reassurance. "It's okay, darling, you're safe now."

Nearly through Tom's ropes, Voldemort looked to the clearing. “Avery, get over here and catch my son,” he ordered as he swung the knife at the rope binding Tom’s hands to the loop. It split in two and Tom toppled into the Death Eater’s arms.

Yaxley and Dolohov dragged Morfin off through the woods, back towards the House of Gaunt.

Lord Voldemort moved to begin freeing Harry next. “Get him into my car immediately. I’ll be there with Harry as soon as I’ve cut him down. If I'm not there within ten minutes - come back.”

“As you command, my Lord.” The Death Eater hefted and slung Tom over his shoulder before he disappeared back into the woods.

Focusing on freeing the shivering pretty boy in front of him, the lord set into his work. “You've got to understand, love; the man’s a lunatic but I was assured- no, I was promised, Harry. I was told he had been cured of this insanity and he no longer played these stupid pranks or I would never have allowed you or Tom to come here. _He hasn’t done that in years. He’d been in therapy and is on medication_. That lying bitch. He could have killed you. I am going to murder them both,” he hissed.

"No." Harry shook his head. "Pppplease don't ssssay that about Merope."

"Fine, but Morfin deserves as much punish...Harry?" Voldemort looked up, blinking to keep his eyes clear from the wintry cold. He watched as the boy grew faint. He began to wither before him. Harry looked far worse than Tom had moments back. There was no telling how long he had been out there under the exposure to the freezing cold. Panic rushed back through him once more, fearing he would lose this beautiful creature if he did not make haste on those ropes. He worked harder, putting all of his might into freeing him while he begged Harry to stay awake for as long as he could. "Hey, sweetheart, look at me. Come on now, honey - Keep your eyes open."

He sawed as hard and as fast as he could at the cords. There were so many wrapped around the smaller victim. The task seemed daunting, and he could see the light in the boy's eyes begin to fade as he went slack against the bindings. "No! Don't go to sleep! Stay awake - Harry, look at me!"

Voldemort trembled with cold and worry as he worked through the rope, giving it everything he had. He yanked endless amounts away as he hacked and slashed, until the remainder fell to the ground at Harry’s feet. Gritting his teeth, Voldemort stood up and stabbed the blade through the rope above his head with all of his strength and caught the boy as he collapsed. He looped his hands around his neck and pulled his coat around him. He cringed, feeling poor boy’s ice-cold skin pressing against him. “Stay with me, baby. Don't fall asleep.”

Harry sighed as he felt the man's warmth against him. "Okay, Uncle V-Vernon...I'll t-try not to disappoint you again," he mumbled with the last of his strength.

"Oh god...Look at me, love," Voldemort ordered him through a sugary-sweet command. Concern crinkled his features. "Not your uncle - It's me, it's Voldemort...err it's uhh, it's you know, I'm Tom...well, not Tom Tom, err...God, I don't even know what to call myself...We'll go over that another time. Look at me, honey. Promise me you're going to stay with me here."

After blinking several times, Harry managed to smile as he reached around to touch the beautiful man's face. "I'm ssssorry, sssir. Tom Sr. I'll tttry my best..."

"Don't be sorry, love. You're doing your best." The lord hugged him into his torso, taking this for a reassuring sign. Although Harry appeared confused and lethargic to him, and he was unable to hold his head up or keep his eyes open for more than a few seconds, he was far from death. The man grinned brightly as he brushed the wild hair from his forehead and kissed it. "I'm here, darling. C'mon, you can do this. I want you to stay awake. I want you to stay..."

His voice cracked as he slowly realised how much he cared about this silly skinny boy in his arms. His life, once a firestorm of danger and trouble, did not seem important any more. He had missed too much time entwined in it - time with his son, Tom, watching him grow up - while trying to grab power from every corner of the Earth. Power did nothing to preserve life, nor did it give you more time to spend with the ones you loved. He owed this to Tom, and he owed it all to this silly skinny boy who had finally opened his eyes. "Harry," he breathed as he stood up and pulled the boy up to carry him. "I mean it...with all my heart. Please stay with me."

"I'll try my best..." Harry nodded before falling into darkness. He went limp as Lord Voldemort left the pond with him and made his way back to the car.

* * *

Lord Voldemort dropped down into the back seat of the Maybach and situated Harry over his lap. He pounded on the partition twice, shouting,”Go!”. The engine roared, tyres spinning, kicking up plumes of dust and rocks behind them. Romilda Vane had Tom next to her. She was rubbing his arms and chest with her hands as fast as she could to warm him up. Tom was rocking in place, enduring the horrible pain and shivering without control, his teeth clacking noisily.

 “What the hell happened?” Romilda demanded, seeing the new boy in the car appear to be in worse condition than Tom. “This is your ex-wife’s doing? What kind of sick-”

“My uncle,” Tom corrected. He looked at Harry, watching his father briskly rubbing his hands together before sticking them under the boy’s shirt, massaging them over his skin to create friction. He was breathing hot air on his face while whispering words of encouragement in his ear. It was touching, a miracle of sorts. Tom couldn’t remember ever seeing his father put that much effort into something without getting some sort of payout in return. "Is he gonna be okay, dad?"

Voldemort pulled Harry’s knees into his chest and cradled him, still rubbing his arms and legs for warmth as they sped off to hospital. "He's going to be fine. Isn't that right, Harry?" he whispered into his coat with a passion no one in the car had ever seen him exhibit before. "You're going to be fine, baby. I'm going to take care of you. I'll never let this happen to you again. I'll never let anyone touch you ever again."

Tom threw a hand up to Romilda. She was still rubbing his back and neck. “I’m alright now, thank you,” he said, giving her a kind smile. At least he thought he was alright. There was a chill inside of him he could not seem to warm. It would swell, crawl down his spine with a icy grip and the shivering would resume.

“Get back here. You’ve probably got hypothermia.” Romilda pulled him back against the heated leather seat to resumed warming him up. She nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck. Her long curly hair shrouded him. It smelled so nice and she was being so kind to him. He started to feel really bad about all the awful things he’d said to her in the past, never allowing himself a chance to get to know her.

“I need the back entrance ready. Sweep the whole area, we’ll be there in a few minutes.” Voldemort snapped his mobile closed and stuffed it in his shirt pocket. He gave Romilda a shrug. “They’re going to be fine, I just uh… You don’t mind, do you, ‘milda darling?” He pulled Harry tightly against him, closing his wool coat around them to trap more heat inside.

Romilda made a clucking noise with her tongue. “Don’t be stupid, of course I don’t mind.” She put her arm around Tom and relaxed into her seat. “How did you know? I could tell something was bothering you.”

Lord Voldemort looked his son over, feeling a pang of sadness as he scanned the cuts and bruises on his face. There was a line of dried blood that had leaked from his hairline down to his jaw. “Intuition. I should have known that spiteful bitch would embellish that psychopath’s well being. She knew she could talk me into it… I should never have let Tom go back to her.” Morfin had done far more damage than simply frightening these boys, he was going to pay dearly for this. “She’ll have to live alone again, I suppose.”

* * *

Lord Voldemort was away, intent on getting Tom’s uncle placed back in Azkaban or St Mungo’s, his two favourite holiday spots. He would be back before supper to open gifts with Romilda and the boys. He left his companion in charge of their wellbeing while he was gone.

Harry and Tom were laying next to each other in Tom’s bed, leafing through a magazine, trying to avoid the baby sitter’s burning stare. Harry was squinting at it. His glasses had been broken during the Death Eater’s assault on Morfin. Ms Vane had assured him they would get him a new pair as soon as the shops opened back up. Tom and he surreptitiously glanced up at her every so often to see if she was still watching them.

She was slightly younger looking than Voldemort. Her long curly hair was dark like her skin and eyes. Her pretty face held a smirk which seemed etched on, as if she knew how beautiful she was and could not help but smile about being so blessed. She looked upon the boys, first one for a moment and then the other, and back to the first. It went on for a long while; she was sorting something out in her head about them. Finally, she spoke, directing her question to Tom. “Are you two intimate?”

Tom gasped and dropped his magazine. “That’s personal! Why do you want to know?”

Romilda looked them over again, her eyes scanning Harry up and down, making it very uncomfortable to sit there. He desperately wanted to suck his thumb and curl up under Tom’s arm but he sat there being gawked at like a fool and took it. Her eyes were on Tom again, her smile curling higher on her face as she stared him down. “Yeah, you’ve shagged.”

“What’s it to you?” Harry asked, giving her a dirty look.

“Just curious. You both attend St Brutus’s and neither of you are exactly the epitome of masculinity. Plus, I already know all about Tom. But you don’t look like a troublemaker, Harry. Two and two, you know?” She gave the boys a smile. “You look good together. Anyway, how are you feeling now?”

Harry blushed and looked off into the room to avoid her eyes. He had a bright rosy nose and cheeks, and there were little pieces of gauze wrapped around the tips of his fingers to protect the burnt skin underneath. “I feel fine now, thanks.”

“Good, thanks,” Tom added.

Romilda smirked. “So polite. I’ve never heard you say a nice thing to me before, Tom. What’s got into you?” Before he could answer she gave Harry a wink. “Say nothing, I don’t need details. What if your father interrogates me?”

“Are you shagging Voldemort?” Harry blurted and gave Tom a shove when he tried to shut him up.

“What? Of course not.” Romilda, who had a confused look on her face, pressed her hand to her neck. “I’m his personal assistant. He pays me exorbitant amounts of cash to follow him around wherever he goes and get done whatever he needs to be done, promptly and efficiently. I’m very good at my job.” She relaxed a bit, she even smiled. “Besides, he’s engaged to someone, you know.”

“Fido,” Tom said. He sat up in his bed. “Will she be here today?”

Romilda nodded, her face shifting into something more akin to misery. “With her sister, I’m afraid. She got word we were back in town somehow. I run up to 24 hour store this morning and got them a gift. Place was cleaned out. I hope they like garden gnomes…”

 _Lord Voldemort wasn’t shagging the pretty girl after all._ Harry bit down on his tongue to stop himself from smiling.

“Anyway, you boys need a bath. I’m to have you cleaned up and properly dressed before your father returns. I’ll take Harry to TM’s, you use yours,” she said to Tom, standing and holding a hand out for Harry to take. “Your dinner suit is in the wardrobe, Tom. Don’t dilly dally.”

“What’s a TM?” Harry asked as he took her hand and let her lead him out into the hallway.

She smiled, giving it a squeeze. “Those are Lord Voldemort’s initials. He prefers it to being called 'Tom'.”

“But he named his son that,” Harry said.

They turned into an entrance way. Romilda pushed the double doors open. “He had no say in what Merope named the boy. He had the marriage annulled shortly after she got pregnant.”

Harry stopped dead in his tracks. The room he now stood in had taken his breath away. “Oh my god.”

Romilda nodded, letting the boy take it all in. “I know, right? He let me decorate it. He gave me a charge card with near unlimited funds.”

The room was the size of the dining hall at St Brutus’s. From the gorgeous ceiling mural down to the intricate patterns of the wooden floor, everything in between was perfectly exquisite. Unlike the dark colours of his chambers in the school, this room was light, airy, decorated in various shades of creams and pale yellows. The enormous four poster bed stood out in the back of the room; each poster was carved to look like a leafless tree that branched out to the next. Filmy material was bunched up at each corner with gold cord. There was gold everywhere; flecked in the walls, trimming the furniture, framing the large mirror hanging on the opposite wall, facing the bed. It occurred to Harry that Voldemort most likely watched himself in it while he did whatever he did in that bed.

There was a huge glass terrarium that was as tall as the room. It looked like a tiny jungle inside. He could see a very large snake resting, coiled around a warped tree that wound throughout the enclosure.

“That’s his snake, Nagini. He lets her out a lot. And she bites. So beware. Well, what do you think?” she asked him, putting an arm around his shoulders to guide him to the bath.

Harry looked up at her with a silly grin. “It’s ridiculous. Rich people boggle my mind. You know, the Malfoys got peacocks all over the place. Live peacocks. They’re white. Their house looks like a medieval castle.”

“Tell me about it. This manor here was Merope’s first husband’s home, you know. The place was a wreck when TM hired me. You would not believe how much money he’s put into getting it to this level. Should have just knocked it over and built a new one. Would have been cheaper.”

Harry stepped into the bathroom. It was another gorgeously extravagant waste of money. Romilda opened the glass doors fitting the shower and stepped inside to set the temperature on the shower head that hung from the ceiling. It was huge, and made it look like it was raining inside when she turned it on. “That's weird. Why does he live in Ms Riddle’s first husband’s house?” Harry asked, not really understanding, as he peeled his pyjamas off and handed them to Romilda.

Her face went ashen for a moment, her lips a thin line. “Tom hasn’t told you about she and TM? Hmm, I suppose that’s not something you’d really want getting out. He should tell you, though, before you hear the mangled version from someone else. I think there are a few Nurmengard boys in your school, they love embellishing the tale.”

Harry stepped into the shower and tipped his head back, letting the rain warm his skin. “What’s Nurmengard?”

Romilda clicked her tongue. “Honestly, have they not told you anything? It’s really important that you know what’s going on in their lives now. Once Grindelwald hears about you he’ll sic his awful boys on you. He’s one of Voldemort’s rivals, a filthy gangster, just like Dumbledore.” She pushed Harry’s clothing into a square hole cut into the wall and closed its door. She closed the glass doors to the shower, immediately taken aback by the erotic tattoo the sweet boy was sporting. “Uh, I’m going to check on the kitchen. When you’re finished dry off with a towel and put it in the chute. I’ll lay your clothing out on the bed. Don’t forget to wash your hair.”

“Thank you,” Harry called out as she exited the room. So many things were swimming around in his brain. A mystery to be solved, secrets Tom was keeping from him, the impending meeting of the fiance, Grindelwald, Dumbledore, Nurmengard boys… He rushed through his shower, urgently needing to corner and interrogate Tom before Lord Voldemort returned.

* * *

Tom was at his mirror fixing his tie when his bathroom door flew open and crashed against the wall. Harry was standing at the threshold, dressed head to toe in a black dinner suit. He was panting and squinting at him, he was quite out of breath and pointing a shaky finger at the Head Boy. “You, ah, owe me, ah an explanation!” he cried and charged into the humid room, slamming the door behind him. Tom turned to face him with his hands up. Harry looked absolutely stunning as he shoved the taller boy’s back against the wall, pinning him to it. “Tell me!”

Tom sighed, knowing that woman had filled the boy’s head with a lot of cryptic questions she left to Tom to answer. He took Harry’s hand. “Not here,” he said. He dragged him down the stairs, through the large home until they reached the large exterior French doors that led to the back of the garden. It was cold, burning their already frost burned skin, but he didn’t want to say the awful story within his own chambers. He never wanted to think of that memory in a place that he loved so much.

Tom pulled his dinner jacket closed and leaned up against a spindled railing. “What did she tell you?” he asked, looking angry.

Harry mimicked him. It was so cold outside, he hoped the tale was short. “She told me you’re supposed to tell me everything. What did your mum do to your dad? Tell me, tell me, tell me,” he chanted while hopping up and down with anticipation.

Tom cringed. “Fine, okay. Just so you know, even Malfoy doesn’t know the truth. There are rumours, but I always deny them. There are very few records to show as proof, as far as everyone knows it’s just a story to make my father look bad… but it’s true. You’ve got to promise me you’ll never tell another living soul about this. Not even Malfoy.”

“I promise,” Harry swore. He watched Tom’s features contort with sadness and shame.

“This is hard to say. Try not to judge her too harshly,” Tom began. He was staring off at something on the ground, feeling sheepish. “My mum… she is also my dad’s mum.”

Harry blinked. “Come again?”

Tom cleared his throat. “You know, technically. She is my father’s mother. He's my father...but he's also my brother...She gave birth to him, didn’t raise him, though.” He leaned back against the wall, still unable to look Harry in the eye. “He got taken away from her, put in an orphanage the day he was born. We're literally eighteen years apart in age, to the very day.”

“How is that, uhh. She and he...But they got married,” Harry said under his breath, feeling very confused.

Tom made a little whimpering noise in his throat. “According to her they didn’t know they were related… She swears when they met it was completely innocent, but I think she knew. Actually, I'm sure of it. She’s got mental issues, Harry, especially when it comes to _him_. Her first husband, my grandfather, owned this grand house. He's my father's father. He died here, in this house with his parents, a few years before I was born...under mysterious circumstances.”

Harry closed the space between them, taking Tom into his embrace. “I’m so sorry.”

Sighing, Tom shrugged. "We've never been close, mostly because of this reason. When my dad's attorney found out they were mother and son he had the marriage dissolved. He took everything, wiped her out of all of this since technically it's his father's property, and had any records showing how closely related they were sealed up. He claims they’re third cousins now.” He leaned in and kissed Harry’s pouting lips. “It’s okay. Kind of serves him right for marrying her for her money, yeah? And he confessed to me after drinking too many lowballs they only had sex one time and he can’t even remember it because she drugged him. That’s when I was conceived, and obviously I'm his son because I look just like him or he'd probably bankrupt me too. It's always been between us, though, this burdeon of me being born when that was never a part of his plans. Awesome story for the grandkids, ain’t it?” Before he could reply, Tom tipped Harry back against the spindled rail, one hand at the nape of his neck, the other under his shoulder blades. Harry’s arms circled his neck. Their lips touched and parted.

There were several noises suddenly filling the air, strange popping sounds in the distance that broke the kiss. Harry squinted in its direction but it was blurry and his eyes were watering from the cold. Tom, though, tensed with anger. He threw the doors open and shoved Harry inside. “Get the hell out of here!” he screamed. He picked up a stone and threw it at the two men with cameras who were taking photos of them from the bushes that lined the back drive. They ducked out of the way and ran off. Furious, Tom reentered his home and slammed the door behind him, grabbed Harry’s hand and set off into the depths of the mansion. “Ms Vane!” he shouted, still shaking with anger. She skidded to a halt in the sitting room at the same moment he and Harry entered.

“What, what, what?!” she cried, looking frazzled and a lot less confident than she had earlier. She had a mobile in her hand, ready to dial. “Stop, what happened?”

“Those sons of bitches from the Prophet were on our property again! They got a photo of Harry and me kissing!”

She opened her mouth to say something along the lines of ‘I knew it’ but snapped it back shut. She held her hand up and brought her mobile up to her ear. “Don’t worry, I’ll call Malfoy, get them pulled. I’ll break the news to your father after.”

Harry stood quietly, worried and confused. He had been fed way too much excitement and information over the last few days to process anything properly. He didn’t even know what ‘the Prophet’ meant. He looked up at Tom, feeling like Lord Voldemort would not be happy. The thought of that terrified him. “Oh no… Is he going to be cross with us when he finds out?”

Tom put his arm around him, giving him a small squeeze. “It’s okay. What they did was illegal. There’s an order out on them. They can’t come near our property. Calm down, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Romilda had a finger in her free ear and was barking instructions on how to get the photos pulled into the phone. “Whatever you have to. Now!” she ordered and clapped her mobile shut. Her normally pretty face was twisted with malice. Harry hadn’t realised what he was doing but he was sucking his thumb and slowly backing away from her and Tom. His eyes shifted between them. Everyone was so angry and screaming. And it was caused by something he had done. It was always something he had done.

He turned, looking for a door to run through, tired of this new life already. He just wanted to run away and find Vernon and Petunia and beg them to let him hide in his cupboard in case they came looking for him. He looked down the hallway they had come through a short while back, eyeing the glass panelled doors. He willed himself to sprint but Romilda’s mobile began to buzz, catching him off-guard. She flipped it open and a smile curled her lips. “Done,” she said to Tom, smirking. “We got all the ones pulled of you two kissing. Go finish getting ready, your father is almost home.”


	16. Sugar Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ring and a car, now you're the prettiest by far. With the holidays coming to an end, Harry finds himself in bed with his favourite Crime Lord.

New Year’s Eve

As twilight fell on the last day of the year, a spray of splashy fireworks exploded in the far distance, witnessed through the large picture window framed in violet and forest green stained glass. Nagini slowly tapped her nose against the barrier of her terrarium, watching the graceful motions across the room on her master’s bed. It is mesmerising. The lights were bright inside; there was an arrogance in the room that demanded nothing be hidden from him. He just couldn’t help himself. He watched himself and his lover; rocking, arching, thrusting, grinding. It was beautiful; he was making art.  
  
Needing to take a break to make some calls, Voldemort dropped the newspaper he was reading onto the mattress and popped the lid off of a prescription bottle. He shook a pill into the palm of his hand. His lover’s whining protests were becoming an annoyance. While holding his telephone in the crook of his shoulder, he forced Harry’s lips apart and dropped it on his tongue. “Swallow,” he mouthed firmly, and snapped his jaw back into place. “No, I’m still here. He’s in a meeting now? At this hour on New Years Eve? Tell him I hope it’s for another position in another organisation. Good evening.” Choking on the bitter taste, Harry lurched and coughed. Lord Voldemort stopped in mid-dial and turned the boy onto his side. “Are you alright, kitten?” he said as he inspected him, wiping the sweaty fringe out of the boy’s face.  
  
Harry panted at him like a tired puppy. “I’m okay.” His elbows were snugly bound behind his back, another thin cord cinched his knees tightly together. He nuzzled against the handsome man in need, licking his bared kneecap with the flat of his tongue. "C'mon, then, Voldemort," the boy whispered, "fuck me already."

Voldemort shushed him as his attention was drawn back to the call. “Yes, Ms Brown, I’m here. Get me through to him.” He ran his hand up the backs of Harry’s thighs, tracing along the pattern of the tattoo before firmly gripping his pert little ass. “Goddamn,” he whispered in his ear, watching the boy giggle and squirm around his prodding fingers. He reached into his own shorts to free his throbbing erection. “You’re fucking killing me, Potter.”

"Yes, that was my intention." Harry closed his eyes, letting the pill take its dizzying effect, easing the discomfort of his bondage. The Lord of the manor had become somewhat risque as of late; his treatment of Harry had, to some extent, swelled in possessiveness and passion.　

“This is Malfoy.” There was a definite note of annoyance in his intonation. He was probably pulled out of some ridiculous gala his trophy wife dragged him to. Voldemort snickered under his breath.

“It’s about time,” he droned. With his eyes set on his prize, he put the phone down on his night table and yanked Harry half-way off the bed to bend him over the edge. “Can you hear me, Lucius? Got it on speaker phone,” he said casually while standing tall and rubbing his prick with lubricant. He put an arm around Harry to adjust himself properly, clamped a hand over his mouth and checked himself out in the mirror across the room. He looked amazing standing there with the boy trapped between his thighs. Harry was struggling for him so nicely. Voldemort arched, flexing the sleekly defined muscles on his back and torso. “Gorgeous.”  
  
“Yes, sir- what was that?”  
  
"Got a proposition to make for you, pretty baby." Leaning in against the shell of Harry's ear, Voldemort whispered softly, “Stay as quiet as you can. That means no matter what happens you don’t make a peep. If you can do this, I’ll teach you how to drive that fancy car I bought you. How does that sound?”　  
  
On the tips of his toes with his backside arched fully in the air, Harry eagerly nodded. The pain was all but nonexistent now. The pill in his system dulled every ache the ropes were causing. He fell slack for a second but tensed rigid as Voldemort snarled under his breath and claimed his arse.　  
  
“My Lord?”  
  
“Have you seen the daily?” Voldemort said darkly. He wrenched Harry’s arms up, shoving the boy’s face into the mess of goose feather bedding. "They still printed his fucking picture, Lucius. _What the fuck?!_ "　  
  
“My Lord. I got every photo pulled that I could prove had been taken on your property. That repulsive Skeeter woman; her vileness is as sucking as a tick’s bite. As hard as I tried, I could not dissuade her from printing the boy’s photo from long range,” said Lucius regretfully. "I swear to you I really tried."  
  
“Yes, well, that’s twice now this ward of mine has made the front page in five days,” he replied mid-thrust, huffing as silently as he could. “They’re calling him ‘The-Boy-Who-Lived’ because of the accident, and now ‘The Chosen One’, because I took him in. They’re trying to draw a link between the two. I had nothing to do with that goddamn mess. _Nothing!_ ”  
  
“That will be cleared up. I already have my people on it.”

" _He_ did this, not me. Fucking child molester, he is. He's the murderer, Lucius, I'm positive. If I could prove it-"

"No one with half their wits in their head think you'd ever hurt her, my Lord. They know  _he_ did that to hurt you, like he tried to do to me with my Draco. We'll get that dirty old pig one day, I can promise you that."

"I know, Lucius...I know." Voldemort bit back the emotional override drilling into the pleasure of fucking his sweet little ward. "He deserves everything he gets. Karma, my friend, he's got a day of reckoning coming for what he did to this innocent little orphan and his parents...to sweet Lily."

"I work on this day and night, my Lord. Grindelwald's demise is always in my sights."

Harry turned his head to look up at the man, almost certain they were speaking about him in some strange way.

Voldemort winked at him. "Look at you, kitten," he whispered, as he drew from him before thrusting back, feeling his heart skip a single beat at the sight of his lovely green eyes watching him work. “Good, Lucius. Heads will roll. I want that filthy woman out of my personal business once and for all. Everything she prints is lies.”  
  
“Are you keeping the boy away from the outdoors? They have photographers swarming your home with those camera lenses that go forever. They’re like bloody telescopes now.”  
  
“Oh yes,” he said, coaxing the boy’s head up. “I know. I’ve kept him in the house all week.” He leaned in to suck on the nape of his damp neck. “Very close to me.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
Lord Voldemort stopped moving, letting Harry fall back into the bedding. “I want this tamped down before it takes off any more. We have people inside there. Use them.” He reached out and snagged the paper. Grabbing Harry around the waist, he drove back in, intent on not letting anything stop the sudden rush filling his bloodstream. “They called me a Crime Lord again.”  
  
“Alleged. It is their favourite title for you.”  
  
“They’ve got his name, his age, his old school records. They interviewed those awful relatives. This blasted photo of him was taken in my garden.”

“It’s a blurry photo,” Malfoy said stoically. “They don’t have anything recent. He’s not clearly identifiable.”  
  
Voldemort pulled out with a jerk, gripping the base of his cock and letting the paper fall to the ground. He nudged the boy onto his back. “Up here. Tongue out, yes,” he whispered as he drew his fingers up along the shaft. Harry arched up with his tongue out, his hands splayed over the mattress, readily lapping at the sticky-white honey spilling out, freckling his cheeks. “I hope you’re right. Ah, god, isn’t there some precaution we can take, Lucius?” he said through a heavenly sigh, relishing in the velvety swishes the boy’s tongue produced on the head of his cock.　  
  
“Listen, I’ve got an idea. The public seems very taken with the boy. I’ve gotten several calls from the media and publicists wanting more pictures, information, requests for interviews. They’ll take anything about him. I’ll think of a way to use this to our advantage. This could be good for business.”  
  
Voldemort fell to his knees, cupped Harry’s face and wiped the warm jism from his cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. “Look at you, fucking amazing, Harry.” He lifted him up around the waist and threw him onto the bed. He dove in, roughly kissing him as he drew a knife from the side table. He cared nothing anymore about the telephone call.　"You are so unbelievable, love."  
  
“Are you not alone, sir?”  
  
“We’ll finish this later.” Ending the call, Lord Voldemort stretched out over the length of the mattress, clasping his fingers together behind his neck. He watched the boy recover, snickering at him as he tossed him a dirty look. “What’s wrong with you? That was fantastic.”  
  
Harry dropped the mobile into the drawer. He rubbed his elbows, pouting, looking slightly wounded. “You tied me up too tight, you filthy Crime Lord. Look what you did here.”

“That’s what the pills are for,” he replied, smirking. He turned onto his stomach, propping his head up on his fists to watch him. He could spend a million years watching him doing anything. “So, how are you enjoying you’re New Year’s Eve so far?”

“I love spending any time with you,” Harry purred. He snuggled down into the mattress and dislodged one of Voldemort’s fists, causing his head to drop onto the bed. He began sucking on the man’s fingers, tasting his salty juices and hints of flavoured lubricant. He kissed the dark stone of the ring sitting on his middle finger before taking his thumb and sucking on it as if it were his own. He stopped, seeing the man’s heavy eyelids fighting to stay open. He dropped his hand, completely miffed. “Are you falling asleep?”

Voldemort rolled onto his back with a sigh. “I need a moment to recover, you slave driver. I’m not that young anymore.”

“Give me a break.” Harry swung his legs over the side of the bed and leaned down to gather his clothes. “If that's how it's going to be - Sleep then, grandpa. I’ll just have Malfoy suck me off when he gets here. Least he appreciates my-”

“Ooh, you get back here, smart ass,” Voldemort growled with jealousy, grabbing Harry’s wrist and yanking him back into the middle of the mattress before he could get away. “I don’t think I’ve spoiled you enough yet. You’re so eager to run off on me.” He fished around through a drawer on the bedside table and pulled out a small jewelry box. He held Harry’s left hand up in front of his face and grazed the tip of his tongue up the length of the ring finger. “This,” he said softly, grinning, slipping a large ring down onto it, “is yours. I had it made just for you.” It fell into place. It was gaudy as hell and fit like a glove.　  
  
Harry grabbed his new glasses off the bedside table and pushed them on to gawk at the ring in amazement. Large diamonds, rectangle cut, were set around a thick band of polished platinum. In the centre was huge a pillow cut emerald. The gem was so bright it practically glowed. The ring itself was enormous, much too large for his delicate hand. Harry immediately fell in love with it. “Cor...For real, this is mine? It’s brilliant!” he cried, barely able to contain himself. He threw his arms around the man’s neck and peppered him with butterfly kisses. He had never been given so intimate a gift before.　  
  
“Look at it,” Voldemort snuggled into him, shrouding himself around him like a cloak while he pointed out to the boy, “It matches your eyes." He touched his face, yearning to stay that way forever. His forehead crinkled in seriousness as he tightened his fingers on the boy's chin. Their eyes locked. "This is important. Never take it off, kitten. Promise me.”  
  
Harry shivered with excitement. He cracked a nervous laugh as he tipped his head back, detaching it from the man's grip. “Never, I promise.”　  
  
"Good." Voldemort brushed back the fringe from Harry’s forehead, frowning as he focused on the lightning-bolt shaped scar. He hated it. It was a cruel reminder of the tragedy that happened so long ago that changed all of their lives so drastically. There was no proper way to keep it covered, what with Harry's mop of hair that had no means of being tamed. “Your hair is so wild.” He traced over the shape of it, completely mesmerised. “There just has to be some way to make it stay flat. I’ll have Tom take you into town tomorrow afternoon to get it trimmed again.”  
  
“Sure, whatever you want,” Harry mumbled, his eyes still fixed on the gift.  
  
“What I want,” Voldemort said darkly as he got up on all fours and climbed over Harry, shoving him prone to the mattress, “is for you to be happy with me. I know I’ll have to let you go back to that little white rat-boy soon, but tonight you’re mine. What do you want from me? I'd do anything for you, I'll give you anything you desire, just tell me what you want.”

Harry arched a sinister eyebrow and dangled a length of cut rope he picked up on the bed over his head. “Let me tie you up, fuck your arse," was his pithy response.

Lord Voldemort threw his head back in laughter; its harmony a blend of wickedness and mirth. He took the rope and tossed it over his shoulder. “Maybe another time.”

"Oh, come on," Harry jested, giving the man a cheeky wink. "It'd be so hot. And you might like it, being all tied up and under my control."

Being all tied up and under Harry's control had a ring to it that Voldemort probably would never had considered before. It wasn't just what he said or the way he said it; Harry’s saucy little mouth turned him on like nothing other. No one had ever dared to speak to him in such a way, not even in the orphanage he grew up in as a child. Harry's stark bravery was infused with a sweet innocence that resonated through Voldemort like a drug, feeding his bottomless pit of primal lust. He consumed it up at every opportunity and always craved more. He could never get enough of him. It was more than a silly crush he had on Potter, it was more than his resemblence to his mother. This feeling was new to Voldemort, this feeling Harry gave him, so strong and genuine.

"I need to tell you something I never thought I'd hear myself say," he said as he righted the boy's head to look at him, feeling his heart flow over with more than lust for this pretty boy. Something far greater in strength was brimming inside of him, bursting to break free. "You do something for me. I can't explain it - I haven't felt this way before, not even with...with anyone. Ever. I think maybe I'm falling in-"

There was a knock at the door, fracturing the atmosphere the Lord had worked so hard to attain.

Voldemort's lip curled up on one side. "Wonderful timing."

"Falling in...falling in what?" Harry asked him, turning his head back to face him again. He flinched at the jarring sound of a second, more persistant knocking filling the room, and sadly watched Voldemort give in to its annoyance. "Naw, ignore that. Tell me, tell me!"

"The moment's been ruined, sadly. I'll have to tell you later," Voldemort said, giving the boy a sad smile while he mussed his hair up. Looking upon him for a final time that year, his warm suspire concluded that evening’s liaison. “Fuck, what do I pay these people for… One moment, 'milda,” he said loudly to the door. He gave Harry a polite shove. “Get your clothes, go through there. There’s a hidden door in the back of the linen cupboard. It leads to a tunnel that takes you to the lower level. Take a right and go for a while… it’s dark but the passage is narrow. You’ll hit the stairs after a few minutes. No worries, go,” he told him under his breath, pointing to the bathroom and giving the boy a slap on his bum as he hopped off the bed.

Harry grabbed up his pyjamas and glanced back at the beautiful gangster one last time, pouting. "Okay then, I guess...Happy New Year, T.M."

Voldemort flicked a finger at the bathroom door, ushering Harry out of the room before anyone saw him. “Come in,” he called once Harry was safely out of sight, pulling his robe over his shoulders as he slipped off the bed.

Romilda cracked the door. She put the back of her head against the wood, keeping her eyes focused on the hallway. “The lovely Ms Carrow would like to know if you are planning on returning to the party some time tonight, sir. She’s commented to several guests that you’ve been gone for over an hour, inquiring on what you might be up to. She also asked me to remind you that it’s almost midnight, that you promised her a dance and a kiss.”

"Good God." Voldemort grabbed his slacks off the back of a chair, grunting with annoyance. “She’s still here?”

“I’m afraid so, sir.”

* * *

Harry struggled to pull his t-shirt over his head as he fumbled around in the darkness of the small walk-in linen cupboard. He hiked his pants up and slung his pyjama bottoms over his shoulder, finding a small metal hook near the top of the back wall. He yanked on it and the sound of something rusty creaked and snapped behind the wall, releasing a latch to let the hidden door swing open. He was suddenly faced with a pitch black entrance with nowhere to go but into its depths. “This is what it must be like to be a rich person’s mistress…” he mumbled, scrunching his nose. The floor beneath his bare feet was ice cold cobblestone. It felt ancient, jagged, jarring his dulled senses. He took another step within, triggering a mechanism built into the floor. The hidden door swung shut. He heard a latch slam into place and sighed with disappointment, knowing he could only move forward from this point on.

Heaving in a lungful of air, Harry pushed forward, running a hand along the wall of the tunnel as he crept through the darkness. The old mansion creaked and moaned, adding to the myriad of horrible things running through his mind. More than once, Harry found himself bumping into an unseen wall, tripping over jutted stones and flinching at strange sounds. At some point he lost his pyjama bottoms on a snag. “I’ll bring a torch next time…” he whispered to himself and paused, rethinking this whole mistress thing that was going on, “if there is a next time.”

There was just too much drama, too much secrecy, incredible danger, not to mention many layers of trouble in his life. If he wasn’t being dragged off to be carved up in a toilet or guarded by people who only want him to be in complete and utter misery, he was being whisked off to have tiny cakes in London while that person whined and cried all day about what a selfish pig he was or he was being set on fire by a psychopath. Now, he found himself sneaking through an underground tunnel at subzero temperatures because he might be seen by some old hag his third lover was about to bankrupt. Can’t ruin that for him, right? After being heaped with a mountain of gifts, a new sports car, a gigantic gem encrusted ring and more love than anyone could properly need - Harry felt less of a person than he ever had. What was Draco going to say when he got there and saw the ring? What was Tom going to say? Who was going to be angry with who, and would Harry end up taking the brunt of all of it again? Perhaps romance was not in the cards for him, or maybe he let himself get stretched too thin. He wasn’t sure anymore if he loved them all or if this was just a really fun game. Sustaining three relationships seemed almost impossible and downright silly.

Dredging onward, Harry tried desperately to stop the images of spiders crawling all over him every time he walked through a thick, unseen cobweb. He was throughly unnerved as he moved toward a hint of light at the end of the tunnel. The sound of clinking metal and frustrated cursing reverberated through the cold stone he clung to in desperate need of freedom. The faint light grew, casting shadows on the cold stone. Harry was drawn to it like an insect. His whole body quavered with intrigue and chill as he wandered closer, intent on ending this victim playing and settling into bed. He wanted to start again, fresh for the new year.

At long last, Harry stepped into a larger corridor. There was a light at the end on his left side. The sounds of tapping metal, shuffling and people cursing at one another grew louder. “Nice job, cunthead, have you ever played fair?”

“Ask me bollocks!”

“On- hold up!”

The moment Harry stepped into the light someone wearing a wire mask approached him. He was dressed head to toe in white, swishing a sword off to his side as he loomed overhead. Another person stepped into view, wearing similar gear. “What are you doing down here?”

“Looking for a way out,” Harry replied, dirty look firmly in place. “Don’t try to attack me, I will be forced to kill you,” he added and shoved the unknown person aside to move closer to the dangling lightbulb. He was grabbed and whirled around. The attackers pulled their masks up and Harry smiled. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Why are you not wearing clothes?” Draco asked him, frowning. “It’s freezing down here. And I got here hours ago. We looked for you…” Feeling a stab of guilt for not saying ‘hello’ or ‘are you alright’ before he started in on the accusations, Draco decided he didn’t care why Harry had just emerged from a dark tunnel with only his skivvies on. The poor sod looked pathetic, miserable and cold standing there. “Oh, come here, you,” he said, throwing his arms around the chilly boy and giving him a big hug. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“Yeah,” Harry replied. He had to admit to himself that he allowed these things to come to pass. He let Lord Voldemort seduce him, he let Morfin drag him off, he let Draco and Tom fight over him. In half a term he had acquired the absolute worst reputation in the school, a school filled with rich, entitled snobs and violent criminals. Looking back at Draco and Tom having a little sword fight while he had to sneak away like a thief in the night… He set his mind: no longer would someone else fight his battles for him, speak for him, coddle him, protect him or cover up for him. He had to admit to himself, at last, that it was time to grow up. “Right,” he said, peeling Draco’s arms off of him. They were wearing fencing outfits. He, himself, had been given a lot of fencing things on Boxing Day. A spark of fearlessness began to grow in his mind. “Let me get my stuff from my room. Teach me how to do this.”

Draco smiled. “Yeah, course.”

* * *

They would be returning to St Brutus’s in two days but Harry wasn’t satisfied with the amount of training he had put into learning to fence. He wanted to practice more, learn everything he could before they got back. That, and there was something else he wanted, too. He had earned it but had yet to receive his prize.

“…so if you keep your elbow in, when you thrust you will hit exactly what you’re aiming at.” Tom and Harry walked into the kitchen, flush from practice. Despite being overheated, Harry was on top of the world. He collapsed into a chair and leaned over the countertop to catch his breath.

Tom reached into the crisper and grabbed a jug of water. His hair was damp with sweat, his breath still laboured. He tugged at the snap at the collar of his lame jacket. “Your reflexes are amazing, but you’ve got to slow down,” he said to Harry, sliding a glass of water toward him, “you’re pushing yourself too hard, too fast. All of your muscles will seize up tonight. You’ll be sorry.”

Harry downed the glass and slammed it on the countertop. “More, please. Dying here.” He shucked off his gloves to fumble with the zip on his white jacket.

“Okay but slow down, you’ll get a stitch.” Tom refilled it and leaned onto the countertop to relax.

“Yes, mummy,” Harry said, smirking.

“You’re a bloody natural, Har. I’ve never seen anyone catch on so quickly. Look, some of those blokes at school have been practising straight out of their nappies. You’ve got a few days under your belt, you can’t expect miracles - Although… you know, you’re really good, I’m guessing you could go head to head with more than half the nutters in dorms three and four.”

Downing the second glass, Harry shrugged. “I just want to be able to stand up there and defend myself and not look like an idiot.” He pushed his empty glass back toward Tom. It was time to cash in the chips for the other thing he really wanted. “Right, so where’s your father?”

* * *

Buttoning his shirt and shaking his wet hair all over the place, Harry skipped several steps as he raced down the staircase and landed on the floor. He skidded to a stop in front of the cupboard in the first sitting room, grabbed his trainers, parka and a large overcoat. He turned and rushed through the large manor, passing the kitchen, threaded through a long, narrow hallway. He threw himself forward into the opening of the library and slid into Lord Voldemort’s desk, his momentum bending him over the top of it. He pushed himself up and smiled at the man gaping back at him. “Been looking for you,” he huffed, being quite out of breath.

Hestia Carrow cleared her throat behind him. He ignored her.

Lord Voldemort arched an eyebrow. “Where’s the fire?”

Harry wagged a finger at him as he fought to slow his breathing. “You remember that thing you promised me the other day?” He turned around and leaned into the desk for support as he put his trainers on, still ignoring Ms Carrow's attempts to get his attention. “Remember I did that thing for you because you said you’d teach me to drive that auto you bought me? Well, I want to go. Now.”

Lord Voldemort made a little bothered noise in his throat. He dropped his pen on the desk and sat back in his chair, and then gestured to the stacks of files cluttering the desktop. “I’m really busy at the moment, Harry, got really behind on this paperwork. Why can’t you have Tom teach you?”

“Because you said you’d teach me,” the pretty boy replied, turning back to look at him. He leaned over the desk and propped his head up on his fists. “I've been very patient, been waitin’ all week for this but you keep putting it off. I did exactly what you wanted me to, down to the very last drop, sir. I earned this driving lesson and you know it; you owe me.” He smiled brighter, seeing the slightest twitch at the corner of the Lord’s lip. The man was nearly impossible to read but it was clear he’d just gotten to him.

The little snark in Harry’s innuendo did not go unnoticed. The older man inclined his head. He crossed his arms and leaned into the desk. Their faces were nearly touching, he was so close he could hear him breathing and smell the cherry chapstick on his lips. “That is true, Harry. You did do exactly what I asked. You did earn it.”

Carrow cleared her throat again, a bit louder than the first. Voldemort leaned to his side and looked at her. She was frowning at Harry. He laughed inwardly as he gave his attention back to the boy. “Fine, let me get my-” Harry threw the overcoat at the man and pulled a ring of keys out of his jeans. He was out of the room, running back through the hallway before Voldemort could change his mind.

The young woman stood up from her armchair, looking surprised. “But I have to leave in an hour,” she said. “Can’t you wait-”

“Oh, then I’ll see you later. You’ll let yourself out, right? Cheers, darling.” He ghosted kisses on both of her cheeks as he pulled his overcoat on, giving her a wink before leaving the room. He had to finally admit to himself that there was far more than Harry’s resemblance to his mother, that thing he kept telling himself over and over. Harry was the one person in the world who did not fear him or try to impress him to up his status in life. He was genuine and it was addicting. Lord Voldemort found himself walking briskly toward the garages. There was that flutter of excitement in his chest again, the feeling of infatuation, something that drove him to do this. Harry had awakened emotions the Lord had worked so hard to control. It was mysterious, it was dangerous. He was taking risks now, things he never imagined doing with his reputation or his business. There was so much on the line but this was worth it.

This was to die for.

“I’m driving first,” he said, leaning into the open driver’s side door. He snapped his fingers several times in quick succession in the boy’s face to get him to move over. Harry sneered with annoyance as he climbed over the gearbox and dropped into the passenger seat. The engine was purring softly. Voldemort dropped into the chassis and slammed his door. “We’ll head up to the countryside," he said, glancing at Harry in his peripheral vision," Pay attention now. This is a powerful and deadly machine… not to mention bloody fucking expensive. You will do exactly as I say. There will be no risks. You will stop and get out when I tell you to. My word is final. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said, giving him another silly smile.

They pulled up to the front gates, waiting for them to open. There were two photographers sitting on little folding chairs on the other side of the road. Lord Voldemort put a pair of sunglasses on as he snarled at them. He tapped Harry’s knee to get his attention. “Turn your head and cover your face with your hands. Don’t let them get a good close-up. They’ll make up another story about you just so they can print it.”

Harry did as he was asked. Through his fingers he saw them rise to their feet and hold their cameras up to their faces. Flash bulbs snapped. They were shouting at the car to get his attention as they turned and passed them. “Why are they so interested in me?” he asked, utterly baffled as to why anyone would care about him that much.

“There are many reasons,” said Voldemort. “You know, like the link between us. I knew your parents. They died in that accident and you survived. I took you in. They’re trying to find something nefarious and notorious about it. You know, when they had the accident and you lived, well, it was a miracle, really. You were in the papers and on the telly many times.”

“I was?” Harry hadn’t ever heard that before.

"Of course you were, Harry..." Lord Voldemort clucked his tongue. “Your relatives never told you?”

Harry shook his head. “No, sir. I mean, they told me about a car accident they died in, but that’s about it.”

“What? No, there was no car accident, it was a gas leak. Their house blew up,” Voldemort said, shocked that the boy was so kept in the dark by everything. He pulled to the side of the road and got out. He patted the driver seat, a gesture for the boy to move over to the other side. "A car accident...ridiculous."

Harry climbed into the driver’s seat and pulled his belt on. “I wonder why they lied.”

“They’re common folk, who knows what makes them do things.” He dropped into his seat and leaned back to make a call.

Within five minutes and without uttering more than a handful of directions to the boy, Harry was driving much better than he could have imagined. His reflexes were without equal, it seemed. Voldemort watched him in awe. He had heard from Tom how well he was advancing in fencing after a day short of a week, now he could understand why.

Harry chomped down on his bubblegum, gritting his teeth with excitement. The hand gripping the gear stick slipped into the man’s lap beside him, giving him a rough squeeze. “Cor, did you see that—I nearly flipped the bloody thing! Ooh, you’re so hard. Does this turn you on? Put your belt on, I’m going to jump that mound up there.”  
  
Lord Voldemort exhaled a deep breath, one he had been holding since the last stunt Harry attempted to endeavour. “I’m  _hard_ because I can’t take my eyes off of you, honey. You would not believe how gorgeous you look when you’re smiling.” Why he had not buckled his safety belt beforehand was beyond him, but now he wrapped his fingers around the thick, braided cord and secured himself into the seat. “But, I do not wish to visit death. I’m not even forty years old yet,” he informed him, seeing the oncoming slope of terrain and feeling the car shift down to a lower gear in order to properly careen it.  
  
Meandering the humps and pits of the deserted quarry like a swan to still water, Harry jammed the gear stick down once more, spun the car around until it faced the way they entered. They slammed back into their seats as they came to an abrupt halt. Dust plumed around the car, forming a screen of smoke that seemed to swallow them whole. Harry cocked an eyebrow and his head, smirking at the man beside him. “I think I’ve got the gist of it now. Is that big cock of yours still hard? You wanna fuck me before we go back?”  
  
Speechless, Lord Voldemort merely gave him a loopy smile.

Harry persisted, letting his hand again slip away and land in the man's lap. More beautiful than anything the lord could ever remember gazing upon, the young man batted his thick fan of eyelashes at him. "You could do anything you want, make me do anything you want me to you. And I'd do it...anything," he whispered as he leaned up against him. "Anything you want."

"I know you would..." Besides being irresistible, Harry was a natural at driving. He had a definite talent of manoeuvring against and foreseeing obstacles that he, himself, did not. It was an impressive skill, something he might have overlooked if not for the boy’s persistence. The boy was looking at him through an impish smile, a look he had grown very fond of seeing. Still..."We don't have time. Besides, I can't really head back to the manor smelling like sex if Hestia's still skulking about, now can I?"

"I suppose that make sense," Harry grumbled. He grinned despite feeling a tad bit jealous of her at that moment. "I don't know what you see in her. She never laughs, never even smiles. One day, TM, one day you'll want to spend all your free time with me rather than her. You mark my word."

It was on the tip of the lord's tongue to say the words, "I already do", but he couldn't. He couldn't risk losing all the work he had put into draining this laundering relative of Grindelwald's dry. Once the finances the evil old crime lord used to fund his habits were gone things would get better for Harry and he. Then he could profess his love to him...love? “Perhaps you're right, Harry. Why don’t you let me drive now,” he said, not wanting to press their luck and find themselves at the bottom of that quarry if he allowed Harry to play for too long. He got out of the car and patted the seat he had just vacated. "C'mon, you'd had your fun. Now be a good lad and climb back over here for me."  
  
Harry sucked his teeth, his fingers twitched and gripped the steering wheel, but he shrugged and put the car in park. “Right, thanks for teaching me to drive, TM.”  
  
Looking at his watch, Voldemort climbed back into the driver’s seat. “Isn’t your doctor coming at three?” he asked the boy, wishing he had time on his side, enough to take advantage of that offer. Perhaps another time. He could think of nothing better than bending that lovely arse over the bonnet of the Vanquish in the middle of the woods. His heart yearned for that - and more. Much more. He buckled his safety belt while he watched the boy in his peripheral vision, sighing...wanting more. Much more.  
  
“Yes, sir.” Harry was hopping in his seat, oblivious yet still riding out the high of driving like a maniac. Even an hour talking to Delores Umbridge about his problems wouldn’t spoil this feeling.

* * *

They had one day left before they’d have to pile into Draco’s auto and head back to St Brutus’s. Harry had been practising his fencing skills, making Tom and Draco train into near exhaustion. They took turns, giving the other a break every so often to recover. Harry would not stop despite evidence showing he was clearly knackered. Unlike Voldemort’s promise of driving practice for great sex, Harry had promised both boys great sex for fencing practice. They had had no sexual contact over the last week due to this new obsession.

Draco threw his mask across the room and plopped down on the sofa next to Tom. He said a few choice curse words in Harry’s direction. Harry ignored him. He thrust his foil again and again, checking his alignment with his shoulder. It was giving him trouble, he kept touching his elbow to his hip and he wanted to fix this before the end of the day.

Tom was peeling off his damp gear. “Ugh, enough, Harry!” The hissed, throwing a glove at him.

“I’ll be done in a moment,” he snapped.

Draco scrunched his nose. He looked at Tom, who was looking back at him. He jerked a thumb at Harry. Tom smiled and nodded ‘yes’.

Harry was oblivious.

Draco stood up from the sofa, nasty look set firm. “We’ve taken enough abuse from you, now it’s our turn,” he said to him in his lovely snooty-proper voice. He gave Tom a shove and pointed at the boy. “Do the honours, please.”

“With pleasure,” Tom replied. Wearing only his fencing knickers and socks, he pushed off from the sofa and advanced.

Harry dropped his foil and put his hands up defensively, giggling as Tom grabbed him up and threw him over his shoulder. “Put me down!” he cried and wiggled around to escape, seeing Draco quickly close the distance between them. “Put me down, Tom!” This garnered him a smack on his bum. “Hey- ow!”

Draco grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at him. “Someone is going to suffer tonight. It’s not going to be me.”

“Not going to be me, either,” Tom said, and smacked Harry’s bottom again.

Still giggling, Harry blew a kiss to Draco. “Okay, I admit I may have pushed you both a little far. I have been very naughty, haven’t I?” He gave the blond his best smile.

The scent of sticky red-sodapop, sweaty hair and cherry bubblegum enshrouded Draco. He inhaled the sugary fragrance in the air, watching his lovely Harry continue to blow tiny kisses at him while dangling helplessly over Tom’s shoulder. That stupid gaudy ring was glittering so annoyingly. Draco snorted and touched the boy’s cheek. “Stop trying to seduce me. You’re not getting yours so easily. I think I’ll make you watch Tom and me going at it first.”

Harry blinked. “What?”

“Ooh!” Tom lit up. He turned around and looked at Draco, who took his hand and began backing up out of the underground. “I like where this is going.”

Draco brought his hand to his lips and kissed it. He dropped it and smacked Harry’s bum. “I’ll meet you up in your chambers where we’ll resume this. I have to go find some rope first.”

“Uh,” Harry stammered. He reached out for Draco as he and Tom separated but it was too late.

TBC


	17. Cherry Bomb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is sick of being picked on and issues a challenge. Tom and Draco are fucked. Lord Voldemort is in for a big (and terrible) surprise.

The afternoon was unpleasantly gloomy. Occasional rays of sunlight poked through the dark clouds blotting out the sky, blinding the poor sod tasked with the tedious role of being chauffeur while Draco got to screw around with Harry in the back seat. He fiddled around with the radio for a while, even singing slightly off-key at times to get their attention. A pair of trousers smacked him in the face. He angrily dropped them onto the seat next to him and looked over his left shoulder. “What are you two doing- Oh for Christ’s sake, we’ve been on the road for less than twenty minutes.”

Draco shrugged back at him. “Who knows when we’ll get another chance to do this after we get there.” The perversion of fellating Harry while he was sprawled out across the back seat in his school uniform while sucking his thumb drove Draco iron-rigid. The boy always smelled of hard candy and freesia scented soap. The tip of his black, leather shoe squeaked against the glass of the back window. His eyes fluttered closed and his lips parted for breath. His whispered pleas increased in rhythm and intensity with every hot moist plunder of Draco’s tongue. His lips swelled so beautifully around his digit, dying to be tasted with the same muscle overtaking his sanity.

“Oh, I love this,” Harry said softly, eyes still closed, panting in heavy breath. A harsh groan of fulfilment grew steadily behind the sweet bob of his Adam’s apple. Sweat pooled in the hollow of his collarbone and disappeared within the material of his shirt. The groans quickened. He sucked in a sharp, punctuated breath. The dark brush of his lashes fluttered like butterflies dancing on his cheeks. He moaned at the deviance as waves of rapture spread and overtook him. He convulsed with a trapped breath. All restraint was lost. He shuddered and fell off the seat.  
  
“Nice,” Tom said, sneering, “taking a nap now? I am not driving the whole distance.”

Harry shot up, filled with a sudden burst of energy. “I’ll drive!” He hitched his pants up and groped over the seat for his trousers.

Draco pushed him back down. “You don’t have a driving license.”

“Oh, let him come up here, Dwakie, then I can come back there with you,” Tom purred, looking at the pretty blond in his rear view mirror.

Draco looked up, his lips parted in surprise. This wasn’t the first time over the last week he’d felt that old spark firing up his dormant puppy-love for Riddle.

Harry was wiggling back into his clothes, saying “yes, yes, yes,” under his breath.

“Alright, pull off and switch,” Draco mumbled, feeling his insides start fluttering. A little rush of adrenaline pulsed through his heart. It felt bewildering in some small way. There was so much history between them, nearly two decades of trying to outdo the other. There were a lot of great moments, there were some really terrible ones, too.

They pulled to the side and Harry jumped into the driver seat while Tom flopped down in the back. With a jerk, the auto pulled back onto the road. The radio stations changed and the volume was cranked up. “Buckle up!” he shouted over the music, oblivious to the two boys already soundly snogging behind him.

* * *

The West Wing

“Gather round nutters, villains, psychopaths. Over here now, pay attention. The meeting is about to begin.”

They had crowned a new king. He stood significant before them, his posture at attention, directing the west wingers with a nod of his head to form a semicircle inside dormitory three. His commanding presence held them in awe. His enormous hands were fused into fists, his mouth glued downward in an intimidating frown. Dudley Dursley observed the gathering with an appreciative pounding of his fist against the palm of his hand. They would do well to serve him.

“Now that I am king there are rules we need to follow. First new rule, let’s get something straight,” he began, holding his chin high and his chest puffed, “There is a boy in the east wing that is hence forth off-limits to any of you. He is my cousin and he’s completely mental and weak. If any of you mess about with him — you will deal with me.”

Marcus Belby dared to ask. “Harry Potter?”

Dursley gave a brunt nod. “Yes, Harry Potter. He’s the one I’ve been guarding. I don't want to guard him anymore, instead, I want to take down the ones he needs to be guarded against. Everyone get out the notepads and pencils I told you to bring,” he said, looking over the boys as they jammed their hands into their pockets. “I want you to make me a list of all of the boys who have messed with my cousin unnaturally. I want names, dorm numbers and class schedules. You will all be assigned a target, and it is your job to pound their faces in until they promise not to mess with him anymore.”

Adrian Pucey raised his hand, looking slightly confused. “When you say ‘messed with him unnaturally’, um, does that mean beat him up or had sex with him?”

Zacharias Smith followed suit. “What if you lured a teacher away so another boy could have sex with him?”

Teddy Nott piped up as well. “What if you tried to beat him up but he got the upper hand and beat you up?”

“What if you wanted to have sex with him but just beat him up instead?” Everyone turned to look at Ernie Macmillan with gaping mouths. He cringed. “You know… hypothetically speaking.”

The boys returned their attention to their lists. Dudley walked around the room to look them over. “That’s an awfully long list, Flint.” He ripped the paper from the boy’s hand and read it over. He gathered up the rest, comparing names. All of the names were boys from dormitory seven. There were two names that had made every list and were always on the top of them; Draco Malfoy and Tom Riddle.

“No, no, this isn’t right. Tom Riddle and Draco Malfoy are his study partners, nothing more,” he said, shaking his head.

Several boys snickered.

Dudley threw his hands up. “Okay, which one of you wrote Lord Voldemort down? Let's get serious here, people!” After cross checking and a lot of argument, they compiled a list of several boys who were in for a heck of a surprise. “Macmillan, your new boy is Cedric Diggory. Bole, you take Neville Longbottom. Gordon, you have Ronald Weasley. Pucey, I’m giving you Blaise Zabini. Bletchley, you pound on Seamus Finnigan. Corner, you get Dean Thomas. And you two,” he pointed to Marcus Flint and Piers Polkiss, “you two will be my personal toadies. The rest of you will be my eyes and ears in this school. I want to know everything that’s going on. We will rule this place with an iron fist.”

* * *

Nearing the end of the first day back after the Christmas holiday, the air in the school was crisp and light. Every single bed in every dorm room was filled. This always happened after Lord Voldemort made the front page of the papers. This time it involved student Harry Potter, the once famous orphan that had been rediscovered. The public ate the tale up and wanted more.

Professor Granger settled back in her chair to eye each returning student as they worked on their refresher exams. There was almost always a few select numpties who flaunted their wealth directly after the holidays, and those students were almost always beaten up and robbed. She jotted down a list of boys she’d have to pull aside and remind them that not everyone who attended the school had a vault full of gold. The ring on Harry’s finger stood out far more than any other overpriced trinket in the room. “Alright, put your stuff away. Bring me your exams,” she said absently, her eyes still fixed on the over-sized waste of money. She caught Harry’s wrist as he set his paper on her desk. “Can I talk to you for a moment in the hallway?”

“Sure, miss,” he said, giving her a little smile. God, he was so trusting, he almost seemed too easy to manipulate.

The boys settled back into their lives very quickly. They filed in line to turn their papers in and returned to their seats in order to talk to their friends or boast about the holidays. Hermione closed her mind to that, focusing instead on the sweet boy standing in front of her desk, eyeing the ceramic bowl full of candy. She picked one out and tossed it to him. “Have a good break?”

Harry blushed as he unwrapped the glassy sugar to pop it into his mouth. “You would not believe how amazing it is to spend Christmas with people who never worry about money. They eat pigeons.”

She was certain he had this flaw exploited against him many times since his arrival. Perhaps he knew this, too. He was more intelligent than the average student his age but far too soft-hearted for his own good, a combination that typically fought against the other for control. He would need help with this, she could provide that support. Her heart went out to him as she returned the smile. “You’re such a lovely boy. C’mon, follow me.”

The instant they stepped out of the room, Cormac stuck his foot out from under his desk as Draco walked back to his seat, causing him to trip and stumble into Cassius Warrington. The handsome dorm eight student righted him, smirking. “Not as graceful a swan as I’d first thought, not that I mind you rubbing up against me. How was your holiday? What did you and your pretty little tart do over Christmas?”

Draco dropped into his seat. “You want details?” he asked, returning the wicked smile. He made a circle with his thumb and index finger and thrust his other index finger through it in rapid succession. “A whole lot of this.”

McLaggen glowered at the blond. “Did you try to get me chucked out of school, you bloody tosser?”

“Over here, plonker. That was me,” Tom said, waving his hand like the queen. “I did my best, it’s just a shame you’re one of Grindelwald’s hand-picked cherry boys. Fortunately, Boot wasn’t good enough in the sack to be saved by him. He won’t be back. But you, you must be a pro.”

“You getting smart with me, twat?” Cormac asked, his glare intensified and he bared his teeth.

“If I was getting smart with you you wouldn’t have understood me.” Tom replied, smiling. “I’m keeping it simple, just for you.”

“That’s enough, boys,” Professor Granger said sternly. “Try and put a small effort into getting along today. Professor Lockhart has asked me to tell you all to meet Professor Snape and he in the gymnasium at four for your first practice.” Her eyes roamed again, landing on a disgustingly large hunk of gold jingling around a boy’s neck. She did not recognise him. “New boy, from dorm eight? What’s your name again?”

“Montague, miss.”

“In the hallway, Montague. I need to speak with you.”

Draco watched Harry reenter the classroom and take his seat. He looked slightly irked. The blond leaned over to his side and nudged him. “What was that about?”

“She doesn’t want me wearing the ring. I told her I can’t take it off,” he said with an eye-roll. “She’s afraid I’ll get mugged.”

“I think she’s right. Why would Professor Pettigrew give you such an expensive gift and tell you never to take it off? How could he even afford something like that?” Draco grabbed his hand and shook his head in disbelief. “He probably nicked it. You should just give it back.”

Harry yanked it back and cupped it as if Draco were trying to pry it off of him. “No, shut up. It’s mine and I promised him. Drop it already.”

“Why aren’t you wearing anything I got you?” Draco made a snotty face, scrunching his nose at the sight of Harry defending his horrible teacher.

“I am,” Harry said discreetly, giving Draco a suggestive smile. “Got them little undies on.”

“Ooh, _baby_ , are they fancy?” Oliver Wood loomed over Harry’s desk with wagging eyebrows. He shoved his fingers under the waist of the boy’s school trousers. “Let me see em.”

Harry growled, jerking back in his seat. "Don't touch me!"

Draco and Tom were instantly on their feet.

“Hold on.” Harry gestured for them to sit back down. He turned back to Oliver, giving him a nasty look. “You wanna see my undies, Wood? Why don’t you meet me at the stables after classes and I'll show them to you.”

“No,” Draco whispered frantically. “Tom and me have a meeting with my father after classes!”

Harry shrugged, keeping his glare fixed on Oliver. “I don’t need you to be there with me, Draco. I can take care of this myself.”

Roger and Oliver laughed. Cassius and Cormac smirked. “Can we come too, Potter? I’m pretty sure we all want to see those briefs on your precious little tush.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there, too,” Ron interjected, slamming a fist on his desk. Blaise, Neville, Cedric, Dean and Seamus sat up in agreement. "I think we all need to see em."

Viktor Krum nudged his dorm mate.

“If you lay one fucking finger on him you’ll be sorry,” Draco spat, shaking and pink with anger. His hands were gripping his desk. He was ready to pounce but Harry was holding onto his arm, and he refused to let go. "I am not joking, you disgusting Neanderthals - not one bloody finger!" 

Tom had a similar heated posture, he was fighting to remain in his chair while stabbing his finger at his dorm mates. “I’ll murder every one of you filthy pigs. I’ll bury your broken corpses behind the stables. No one will miss you, I'd be doing this world a favour.”

"Ooh, the coward, Malfoy, finds his inner lion. Colour me surprised, since we all know about how strong the yellow in your blood runs though your family tree. Your father will forever be You-Know-Who's lapdog to do his bidding." Warrington snorted as he turned his gaze on Tom. “And don’t you worry that pretty face of yours, widdle Riddle. We’ll take very good care of your sweet-tart... _oops_ , I mean 'sweetheart'. _Very good care of him_.” McLaggen and Davies were blowing Harry air kisses while Wood grabbed his own crotch and snaked his tongue at him.

“It’s alright,” Harry said flatly, ignoring the taunts. He leaned back and patted Draco’s hand and threw Tom a wink. “I’ll be fine. They’re going to say all the nasty things they feel they need to get out of their systems and that will be the end of that. If they keep this going, I can promise you both I will make it a life’s goal to make their remaining time here in school a living nightmare.”

 _"Ooh!_ " the group of aryan-looking boys crowed back at him. 

_"This is going to be fun."_

_"I can't wait to see them knickers, Potty!"_

_"I wanna see more than your undies."_

_"We're gonna make you cry, little baby!"_

Harry rolled his eyes and waved a hand of indifference. "They don't scare me," he whispered to Draco. He hovered over his desk and patted his hand. "Whatever happens happens. I want it over with. Don't worry about me."

Professor Granger covered her mouth to quiet a gasp and retreated back into the hallway, forcing herself not to interfere. Harry Potter had indeed grown up. She flipped her mobile open and pressed it to her ear. "Yeah, I need you to watch the stables, and I need to alert You-Know-Who."

* * *

Draco and Tom sat in frozen silence in Lord Voldemort’s office, listening to Lucius Malfoy piss and moan about how utterly stupid both boys were. He had a loaded revolver resting on top of the desk and pointed at it several times while spittle shot out at them from his twisted scowl. “You!” he roared, pointing at Tom, “you get me that fucking tape right now before I blow your goddamn head off!”

Tom got up quickly, averting his hate-filled glare, and left the room.

* * *

The stables were set in the south gardens separated from the back of the school by a thatch of willowy trees and thick brush. There was a narrow path through the centre that one took to reach the grounds. Harry pulled his parka closed as he entered the woods, chilled by the loss of sunlight once he stepped under the umbrella of leaves. He hadn’t seen any one else in the area. He was nervous but this needed to be done. He was very sick and tired of being the brunt of everyone’s jokes.

_“There he is!”_

_“Braver than I thought.”_

_“Oh my god, he’s all alone.”_

_"He's got a deathwish!"_

_“What an idiot.”_

Harry walked calmly toward the dorm eight residents stone-faced. Not a single person from dorm seven had made it yet. Hiding his jitters, He swallowed the lump in his throat and heaved in a lungful of air, stopping directly in front of the boys waiting for him to arrive. “Alright then,” he said calmly, crossing his arms over his chest to hide his shaky hands and appear more intimidating. He looked at all of them in the eye. “Let’s have it. I know you’re all dying to have one off at me. I'm here now; let yourselves go.”

Oliver Wood took a step closer. Harry’s eyes locked with his. “I’ll have one off _with_ ya,” he said in his ear, causing the boy to recoil.

Davies and McLaggen snickered.

Warrington, the largest of the four, kept his smarmy smirk set in place. “Where’s your friends, then, Potter?”

Harry shrugged. “Don’t know. Don’t care.”

“Ooh, so brave,” Warrington commented, as he moved forward in front of Harry, looking him up and down. He blinked. “And cute...really cute...for a commoner." He had never looked at the boy from this distance before. Now he understood why everyone wanted to take turns on him. He snorted, pretending he was not impressed. "Heard Lord Voldemort adopted you. That true?”

“No,” Harry said. “I’m his ward until I come of age.”

“Uh, you practically are of age, idiot,” Roger said. He looked at Oliver, snorting. “What seventeen year old needs to be taken care of? He’s just not bright enough to be on his own. Need’s a sitter, he does.”

All four boys looked similar in height and weight. All were attractive, tall, muscular boys with fair skin, light hair and eyes. Seeing them all together standing in a row made the connection they shared seem less than a coincidence.

“He’s more than a sitter to him, though. Isn’t he?” McLaggen said to them. He turned his sinister gaze back to Harry and arched his eyebrows. “Isn’t he, Potter?”

* * *

Fighting to keep his composure, Tom rifled through his locker again. He had checked it more than ten times already, but the tape he had hidden within it was gone. “Oh my god,” he whispered over and over under his breath. His heart was slamming against his ribcage. He went through Draco’s locker, still nothing. Harry’s locker did not contain it, either. He threw his back against the row of metal and shuddered. A vision of that gun crept back into his mind. “Oh my god.”

* * *

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Harry said with a detached shrug. "It's only to keep my trust going, I can assure you."

“Funny,” Cassius said softly, taking a step closer and cupping Harry’s chin with the tips of his fingers. He lifted his head up to study his face. “He’s got a pretty little thing like you all to himself and never takes advantage of that? I find that very hard to believe.”

He began to laugh; loudly, maniacally. The others did, too. Harry waited through it, showing no fear. As the laughter died Warrington’s eyes narrowed, his hand painfully gripped Harry’s chin. “Might as well fess up, you common bitch. We all know Lord Voldemort is a secret bender. Grindelwald’s told us he’s shagged him hundreds of times, and he loved it. As a matter of fact, he’s going to royally fuck the hell out of him when he gets that tape of you sucking him off in the Authority Room.”

Harry blanched. He took a shuddering breath as Warrington closed in on him, wrapping his arms around the boy. “Come here, sweet thing,” he said in a silky drawl, “Oh, you’re trembling.”

“Get your hands off me,” Harry hissed, shoving himself back. “What are you talking about? What tape?”

“He doesn’t know?”

"Can't deny the truth!"

“Surely you remember when your boyfriend, Tom, video taped you and his daddy _in flagrante delict_ o during one of your evenings alone with the old bastard? No? Oh, well…isn’t that interesting.” Warrington took Harry by the arm, turned him around and caught him by the throat with the crook of his arm as he tried to bolt. He wrenched his head up to look at his face. “Enough about that now. The magic moment has arrived. Such a lovely little specimen you are…wasted on Lord Voldemort when you could be one of our little mixed-blooded playthings…why don’t we take him into the stables, boys, and check out them undies we’ve been hearing about. We’ve been waiting on this all day.”

Professor Black gave Pettigrew the signal. Both men took a step from within the woods but stopped as they spotted Viktor Krum and Justin Finch-Fletchley run out from inside the brick interior of the stables and rush the four boys holding Potter against his will. The teachers couldn’t hear what was being said but their actions spoke for them. Harry had already pried himself out of all but a hand holding his wrist. Krum wrenched the boy away and pointed a threatening finger at the attackers while Finch-Fletchley escorted Potter back into the woods. Before the four towheaded boys got the chance to advance, both professors exited the woods and approached them.

Black looked livid. “What’s going on here?”

“Not a thing, Professor,” Cassius said smoothly. He reached out and adjusted the zipper on Krum’s jacket. “Just a little misunderstanding. It’s all cleared up now.”

Viktor Krum gave the teachers a nod. “It’s over vith.”

Black gave Krum a pat on the shoulder. “You’re going to be late for fencing practice. Go get changed, boys.”

Warrington smiled at him. “Absolutely, Professor. Let’s go.”

“Follow them,” Black said to Pettigrew. He opened his mobile up as he watched the five dorm eight students and Pettigrew disappear into the woods. “Yeah, Granger, we let it happen… Yep, no, it’s insane, none of his friends showed- Oh, they are? What the hell happened? All of them? No, Potter’s fine. He was, you were right, he stood up to them… Yep… They’re trouble. You need to let You-Know-Who hear about this.”

* * *

“Gather round! Yes, you boy! Excellent!” Gilderoy Lockhart stood tall on the high fencing strip, wearing periwinkle blue coaching gear and brandishing a golden sabre, which he swished through the air as the seven boys approached him.

Harry cringed as he looked around for Draco and Tom. No one from his dorm appeared to be there. Pettigrew had guarded him since they entered the school, refusing to let him look for his friends, made him dress and follow him directly, ignoring his pleading to make a telephone call. Now, standing in the large room and seeing only faces that had confronted him a short while back, he began to really worry. A strong arm wrapped around his shoulders. “Fancy meeting you here, Potter. You just can’t get enough of me, can you?”

“Let go, fuckface,” Harry growled under his breath at Warrington, who refused.

“God, you look good in your gear,” he whispered, swaying his hip to rub against the boy. “Can’t wait to sword fight with you, honey.”

“You’re a primate,” Harry replied.

Warrington laughed. “Charming.”

“Due to an unfortunate mishap, most of the students are either in the hospital wing or the Quiet Room for at least today. Quiet down! I’m sure Professor Snape will be explaining this once he gets here.”

Harry’s heart skipped a beat. Everyone was in the hospital wing or the Quiet Room? At least Snape would be there soon. He desperately needed to make a telephone call but needed Snape’s permission and he was nowhere to be found. He raised his hand. “When will he be here, sir?”

Cassius pulled him closer, anchoring their sides together. “When can we get started, sir?”

“Let him go, Varrington.” Krum thumped the back of the boy’s head.

“It’s alright,” Harry said, looking back at Krum while wrapping his arm around Cassius’s waist. “We’re mates now. Ain’t that right, Warrington?” He grinned evilly up at the blond, who looked back at him slightly taken aback.

The flamboyant teacher standing above them cleared his throat to regain their attention. “Where was I? Oh yes, you all have heard of me, right?” He pointed to the side of the room where a table had been set up and stacked with thick books. “We’ll have plenty of time to meet and greet after our practice.” He moved his finger to point at Krum. “Another famous fencer! I’d recognise you anywhere, Mr Krum!”

Krum grunted and pulled his mask over his face.

“There’s another famous person here, too, Professor.” Cormac hitched a thumb at Harry. “Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Fu- Lived - with Lord Voldemort. Heard of him?”

Lockhart looked like he wet himself. His hands flew up to his face, covering his dramatic gasp. “The Chosen One…here…Yes, I have,” he breathed. His hands fell to cover his heart. The blade of his sabre nicked his cheek.

Harry put his mask on quickly and gave Warrington a hard shove. “Let’s get on with this, please. I need to do something.”

“We’re not gonna let you do that,” Cassius whispered.

“I’d like to see you stop me,” he fired back, yanking his mask off.

"We'll stop you," Warrington whispered, leering at him. "I'm gonna see those undies on your tight little arse if it's the last thing I do tonight, pretty thing."

"You can try," Harry growled.

"Oh yeah, I'll get in them knickers of yours tonight, Potter," the large boy replied. "When I get hold of you I'm gonna lick and suck on every part of your body." He snaked his tongue out at him in an aggressive manner, causing Harry to recoil. "Nice and slow while your boyfriend watches."

"Get bent," Harry hissed back. He held his practice weapon at the ready. His hands shook with hatred. He would have done anything to take it out on this enemy. "You touch me - you're dead."

“What a little cherry bomb you’ve become. Seems your bollocks finally dropped. I'll check them later once I've got you alone to confirm.” He flicked a finger at Davies and McLaggen, smiling. “Anyway, It’s too late. They found the tape when they got here yesterday. Sent it off this morning.”

Lockhart put an hand on Harry’s and Cassius’s shoulders. “You two seem like a good pair. When did you start practising, young man?” he asked the tall blond.

“I was seven, sir.”

“And you, Mr Potter?”

“Last week, sir,” he replied.

Lockhart frowned. “Oh, then I’ll find you another partner to spar with.”

Warrington put his arms around Harry’s neck and leaned into his back to meet Lockhart’s eyes. “Everyone here’s been fencing that long, sir. I’ll go easy on the little beginner.”

Snape entered the room. Harry detached himself and dashed toward him. “Are Tom and Draco alright? I need to use the telephone! What’s going on, sir?”

“Calm yourself, Potter. Everyone is fine. They’re in the Quiet Room for the evening. Who do you need to telephone?”

“Lord Voldemort,” he whispered, looking around him to see who was watching.

Snape shrugged and moved toward the strip. “No need, he’s on his way.”

Harry turned on his heel to see the stunned faces of dorm eight as he pulled his mask down. “He’s on his way, you say?” he asked loudly. He crouched and held his foil up, pointed at Warrington. “On guard.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this gimme kudos please!


	18. Fucked My Way Up to the Top

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After more than two decades of using others for their money and abusing his power, Lord Voldemort is called to pay penance for his crimes. Unfortunately, Harry will be paying it with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some non-con here, hence the warning from the beginning at the top. I deviated from the original story because although Voldemort is clearly a villain, I wanted him and Harry to have a really fun time, so I changed the true villain in this tale to allow that. There will be one more chapter after this.

“He’s going to be here soon, you idiot! Maybe you shouldn’t have told his little whore we had it.”

“It just came out. I didn’t know Lord Voldemort was headed back here. He's supposed to be away, he'd been here for a month already. I didn’t think about what might happen, it just slipped. Besides, Cormac would have told the little tart if I hadn't. He was dying to tell him!”

“Speaking of which; did you tell him you carved ‘tart’ on his backside?”

“No!”

“Get permission to make a telephone call. Find out what Grindelwald wants you to do.”

“I’m leaving. No way I’m spending a month in the Authority Room when he finds out it was us who did this to his little slut!”

“Gellert won’t let you leave empty handed. Look, I can’t be seen talking to you anymore. I can’t help you with this problem you've gotten yourself into. If his gorilla of a cousin knows I had any part in what happened to Potter I’m dead. I can’t believe this is all over Davies' stupid crush on Draco Malfoy. You know Grindelwald hates impure people touching pure bloods. You should never have told him about Potter. Get rid of the cloaks and masks and keep yourselves out of trouble. Grindelwald will handle Voldemort, but you four are on your own.”

Miles Bletchley shoved Cassius against the wall of dorm eight’s changing room. He was smaller than his oversized half-brother but his bully-like nature always took control. “I’m warning you, don’t do anything stupid. Lord Voldemort can’t touch you if you follow the rules, Cass.”

Cassius paled. “The cloaks and masks? I thought you took them earlier.”

“What are you talking about?”

“They’re gone. I went to get rid of them before I left but they were gone. Everything we used to mark Potter was gone.”

Miles gasped. “Find out who took them!”

* * *

Professor Pettigrew leaned into the dorm room door, scanning over the beds until he centred on Potter’s. Blaise and Ron were looking at him, frowns etched on their faces as he entered the room and scurried over to their dorm mate’s bed. Pettigrew tried to ignore them, blot out their distaste burning a hole through his clothing as he loomed over Harry’s bed and gave his arm a little jiggle. “Potter, wake up. I need your assistance with something.”

There was an audible groan that escaped from one of the two other boys inhabiting the room at that moment. The other five boys were either in the Quiet Room or the hospital wing. Only Ron and Blaise had successfully fought off their attackers earlier that day and spent a few hours in the Quiet Room before they convinced Snape they had not initiated their fights. Peter Pettigrew was physically repulsive. He also happened to be a real sicko. He was supposedly a loyal servant of Lord Voldemort’s. Ron couldn’t imagine the man allowing this union between Pettigrew and Harry when he seemed to have genuine feelings for the boy by taking him in.

Harry stirred and looked up while groping around for his glasses. “What’s going on?” he asked, squinting, sitting up in his bed.

“Get some warm clothing on, we’re leaving the grounds,” he replied, handing the boy his glasses.

“Uh, no,” Ron said, quite on accident. He snapped his mouth shut. He knew what sick kinks Pettigrew was into, his older brother had told him all about it during his time at the school.

Pettigrew turned to him and crinkled his nose. “I have special permission. Go to sleep, Weasley.”

“It’s alright,” Harry said as he dropped onto the cold floor.

“I’ll meet you at the changing room. Chop, chop,” the teacher said, before giving Ron one last crinkle and scurrying away back into the darkness.

Blaise shivered and gave Ron a knowing look before pulling his duvet up to his chin.

Ron shook his head sadly. “Remember what I told you, Harry: rat suit. Don’t go anywhere alone with that man.”

“Don’t worry about me, you big ninny, I’ll be fine,” Harry said, leaning against the door frame. He was smiling, unable to contain it, knowing full well it wasn’t really Pettigrew who was sending for him. “Night.”

* * *

Professor Pettigrew prodded Harry along through the halls in silence. They weren’t walking in the usual direction Harry normally took to meet with Lord Voldemort, this direction took them through the kitchens and more toward the back western most part of the school. It was where teachers and students parked their vehicles. Before they got to the exit, though, the teacher gave Harry a bump of the hip, knocking him off-balance to stumble into a dark room they were passing. The teacher quickly entered, closed the door behind him and flipped on the lights.

“What was that?” Harry asked. He whirled around, hearing the sounds of simulated coughing behind him. The four dorm eight boys that had plagued him earlier were standing on the other side of the wall. All four quickly closed in on him. “Whoa!” Harry backed up, into Pettigrew. Two thick hands dropped down over his shoulders to keep him in place. The boys were on him in seconds.

Pettigrew shoved Harry into Cassius Warrington’s arms. “He really thinks kidnapping is the best way to go about this? I’ve just lost my job and he’s lost the best spy he had in this place.”

Harry stopped struggling briefly and looked up at the man, shocked.

Cormac grabbed Harry’s face to force him to look at him. “Did you take those things from our lockers?”

“He's mine, Cormac! Hands off!" Warrington hissed, yanking Harry away from the other boy's grasp.  He pulled his captive up against him, almost protectively, finding himself strangely aroused by the commoner slutbag of St Brutus's. "We can question him later. Right now I need to take him out to the lot. Grindelwald said deliver him to him straight away.”

"Oh, yeah, right," Cormac replied, shrugging as he backed away. 

Cassius struggled to keep Harry from running off on him. "Relax, tart," he growled to him in a sexy baritone voice as he molded around him, anchoring him into the crook of his body. He snagged the boy's wrists, pinning them together to hold them against his sternum, and covered his mouth with his free hand. He nuzzled into the boy's wild hair, inhaling its strawberry fragrance. "Goddamn, Potter, you've got the hottest little body," he whispered against his ear. 

Harry's hands clenched into fists, his teeth gnashed. He stiffened up rigid, making the trouble of holding him more onerous than Cassius could endure.

"I told you to relax," Cassius growled, as his hand slipped from the boy's mouth to tighten around his throat. "This won't go well for you if you keep fighting back."

Reluctantly, Harry gave off a nod.

"Good boy." Cassius' hand gripped the boy's jaw once more. He looked around to be sure no one was watching them, and forced Harry's head back against his shoulder, gaining access to his slender neck. He leaned in, pressing his lips to his pulse-point, and nipped at it with his teeth. He found himself growing aroused just being this close to him. He understood now why Malfoy might have chosen to partner with Potter over Davies. He just might have, too, if given the chance, if it wasn't taboo to fool around with a nobody. "Whadda you think of me now, hmm? I told you I'd get you, didn't I? Damn, you're so pretty, Potter. You smell so fuckin' good. I'm gonna make you scream my name before this is over, sweetheart. You're in for one helluva night; we're gonna have some fun together, you and me."

"We're running out of time." Pettigrew backed into the door, holding up a hand. "I’m going to try to get young Malfoy and Riddle Jr out of the Quiet Room. Grindelwald wants them, too.”

Harry flinched. He tried to call out for help as he stared into a security camera pointing directly at him, but Cassius gagged him harder with the palm of his hand while grunting in frustration at the trouble his hostage was causing him. "I have to go! I need to get Potter to the car right now, Peter!"

"Fine," Pettigrew replied. He looked around at the others. "Anyone else want to help me capture Voldemort's and Malfoy's sons?"

Roger Davies lit up. “I’ll help you, sir. I'll handle Malfoy! I'm much stronger than he is.”

Wood nodded at Davies. “I’ll help, too.”

Cassius was a massive bundle of muscle, towering over and engulfing Harry into his form, and yet it was a struggle to keep the captive from attempted escape. His breathing increased as he fought to keep Harry from screaming. “Grab his lower half, Cormac! I need your help with him, he's stronger than he looks.”

Cormac grabbed Potter's legs, lifting them up and locking them under his arm. Together, the two dorm eight students carried the helpless boy out of the room, kicking and screaming to get away or get someone's notice, headed toward the parking area.

* * *

After being forcefully shoved into the back seat and held down in a very uncomfortable position until he agreed to stop struggling, Harry was allowed to sit normally in the back of Cormac’s car. Cormac was driving, giving him dirty looks in the rear view mirror from time to time, while Cassius tried his hardest to intimidate him.

“I’m pretty sure this is against the law,” Harry murmured, locking stares with the large boy.

“I told you to shut up. There are no laws for our kind. No one will call the authorities when they discover you missing. He's a gangster, Potter. He's an evil sonuvabitch who robs people, beats them, tortures them, and ruins their lives with his vicious lies! And he's a murderer! He’ll know who to call to get you back, and it's not the police.”

Harry curled up on the seat, hugging his legs protectively. “Why are you doing this?”

“Revenge, Potter! Besides the obvious, I think you need to know a little more about your ward. Lord Voldemort was one of Grindelwald’s boys back in the day. The old man worshipped him, gave him everything: money, power, status. Your sugar daddy told him he was pure, he was a descendant of Salazar Slytherin and the Peverells. He forgot to mention his common father, though. Voldemort used him like he uses everyone. He took anything that wasn’t nailed down and exposed him as a great pervert, practically destroying his business. Now he’s going to get him back… with you.” He gave Harry a shove, pushing him up against the side door. "You're bait. Grindelwald knows that bastard would give anything to get his pretty little cock sucker back."

As they came up to a stop light, Harry grabbed the door handle but the door wouldn’t open. Cassius grabbed him, and bashed his head against the window to stun him. “Nice try. We’re betting he’ll pay a fortune to get you back, along with the evidence. The blow job tape alone will tarnish his reputation, not to mention lose him that rich woman he’s about to marry. Can you imagine what will happen if it gets out he’s fucking The-Boy-Who-Lived? Not only are you a student, you’re his ward. That’s pretty sick.”

"Are you joking?" Harry sneered while rubbing the bump forming on his temple. “You’re pretty sick. Both of you make me want to vomit.”

“As if I care what you think of me," Cassius replied. "You see, not only does my boss need you as bait, but he also wants to hurt you for fucking around with Draco Malfoy. You see, Malfoy’s supposed to be one of us. He’s a pure-blood; he was bred specifically for Grindelwald, pure stock of the highest calibur - so unlike you and your commoner mother; you're both filthy mutts. Grindelwald hand-picked Malfoy's parents and paid them a handsome sum of money for him. He was promised the young Malfoy, but like always Voldemort and Draco's father lied about that, too, and didn’t deliver him when he hit puberty. It seems they both hold some sort of grudge against him for ruining their childhoods or something stupid like that.”

“Breeding? Delivering him...at puberty?” Harry swallowed the awful taste in his mouth. “God, that's disgusting! Good on them for not turning him over, I’d say.”

“Shut up, Cassius,” Cormac warned. “You just never stop talking.”

Cassius snickered. His mind had drifted to a dark place as he watched the pretty little captive beside him gasp and recoil at his lecherous gaze. “It's not like he'll ever get the chance to blab that to anyone about this...or what I'm planning on doing to him...But you’re right. I’ll make better use of my mouth.” Warrington moved in, grabbing Harry before he could fight him off, and shoved him prone with the seat. He climbed on top of him to hold him down with his whole body. 

Harry gulped for breath, finding himself pinned beneath the larger muscular teenager, who grabbed his face as he leaned in to kiss him. 

Cassius snarled. He sniffed the air surrounding him, finding hints of fear and innocence. He leaned in close, ghosting the pinned boy's plush lips. “Let’s find out what makes you so interesting to everyone."

* * *

Warrington made his way through the maze of corridors in near darkness. His shifty eyes darted around, searching every dark spot he had yet to pass, letting his fear of the unknown get the better of his imagination. He was a nasty boy, downright terrible. Everything in life had been handed to him on a silver platter up to this point. He was a selected boy, chosen for his pure genetics, with parents who signed his rights away for a very large amount of cash. He was Grindelwald’s current chosen favourite.

The boy walked quickly down the last corridor, his torch flickering dangerously close to his face. There was a sign above the large metal door he stood at, the words ‘For the Greater Good’ burned into the shellacked wood. He banged on the door and waited. A small sliding panel adorning it opened. Light blue eyes stared into the boy’s. He held up his arm to show him. There was a small tattoo etched into his skin. A triangle with a circle and line through the middle. “Im Interesse des Gemeinwohls,” the boy said. The panel closed and the door was unlatched. He quickly stepped into the room with worry in his eyes. “He’s here, sir. Came by himself. Says he wants his boy back or everyone dies.”

“He came here alone?” The old man holding the Daily Prophet returned his attention to the article on the front page. He chuckled heartily before looking up and dropping it on his desk. He ran his fingers through his gold and silver hair to tame it somewhat, reminiscing about a time when things were so different than they were now. “Bring him in,” he said, looking to the darkest part of the room. “I haven’t spoken to him face to face in so long. I can’t remember the last time. He had black hair. I don’t normally care for dark hair. His little fucktoy has black hair, too. Doesn’t he? Something special about these two. Can’t put my finger on it.”A very large and muscular man emerged from the dark corner and opened the door. Grindelwald smiled with anticipation. “Don’t harm him. He was one of my special boys, see? I like my special boys to stay pretty before I slit their throats.”

After a few minutes Lord Voldemort stepped into the room, sneer set in place, snorting under his breath as he eyed the older man sitting across from him behind his desk. He lit a cigarette and leaned back against the wall. “Where is he? Where are you keeping him? He’s innocent, knows nothing. Let him go.”

“Sit down, Tom,” the old man said, pointing to the chair on the other side of his desk. Voldemort ignored him.

“I need to see him. If you’ve touched him I will have you kill you. Painfully.” He glanced over to the two very large men on either side of the older gentleman they were guarding, daring them with a look to come over and shut him up. Neither moved. “Get my boy.”

“We have some things to discuss first. Like how you never gave me my boy when he came of age...remember? How about when you fucked your way to the top of the ladder, you common slag. I’m quite shocked you came here alone, you’re usually such a pussy over matters that involve your perfect face getting a smudge on it, or the chance you might break a fingernail. I’m surprised, Tom, very surprised at this sudden bout of bravery. He must be very special to you." He watched the rival gangster remain stoic, forcing him to turn up the volume. "Your boy; he's a lovely speciman, especially for a commoner. He must have attained some good genes from the other parent, not his slut mother. Although he did take after her in at least one way, if I recall correctly. She was quite pretty. And he's pretty too, isn’t he? All slender and delicate, the helpless sort, the ones who break when bent too far backward. I’ve looked him over. I might go have a better look soon if we can’t come to some sort of compromise.”

"Like what?" Voldemort asked, already knowing what the answer would be.

"You know damned well what," Grindelwald hissed. He sat forward in his seat. "The Malfoy boy and my assets you stole from me when you escaped, or left abruptly...whatever you want to call it. Speaking of which..." he said, looking smug. His eyes travelled up and down the beautiful man's statuesque body. "You're still young-looking, verile. You aged very well, Tom. Maybe we can go back to the old ways, back to when we used to fuck like rabbits. Good times."

Again, Voldemort snorted amusedly. “That’s adorable. I don’t recall having much of a choice when it came to you and me and the subject of fucking. I suppose you didn't know how to train your monkeys back then like you do now. I'll admit your newest boys are very loyal to you. Still," he said, letting his lip curl upward on one side at the thought of Grindelwald touching anyone. "You'll never get your hands on the Malfoy boy. Never. He is in a safehouse, tucked far away from your greasy fingers; you'll never find him. On that note; let’s change this subject, Grindy. I’ve been dying to ask you this: I’ve heard you can’t get it up anymore, even with those little pills they have out now. It’s just dead down there. Is that true?”

"You want to talk about losing the ability to get it up? Try me, boy." The smile on Grindelwald’s face disappeared. “It's my turn to change the subject: if I don't get Draco, then I keep Potter. I’ll let my boys have their way with him, let em do anything they want to him whenever they want. They all begged me to let them take turns having a go with him...or is it against him? Whatever, semantics.”

Returning his behaviour serious, Voldemort flicked his cigarette at one of the bodyguards, hitting him in the face. “Gellert, you’d better pray no one’s touched him. You’ve got me now, let him go.”

Grindelwald chuckled. “No, no, your wee boy-toy stays right here. There are so many opportunities to consider involving you and he, Tom. Maybe I want to watch you play with him. Maybe I want you to watch my boys play with him.”

Voldemort gritted his teeth behind his lips. Fun time was over. He would get nowhere with Grindelwald trying to outwit him. “Did you try to have my son taken? Why am I even asking, I know you did. It was a failure, I'm sorry to tell you. A dismal failure.”

Old, gnarled hands gripped the arms of chair they were resting over. “Maybe I’ll play with your boy while you watch, helpless to save him. Maybe I’ll use my tools. You know those tools I’m very adept at using to get things out of people who have trouble talking? I can't even begin to imagine what that pretty boy would do to save your face, Tom. I'll bet he'll do anything to get that tape back for you, too.”

"Let's get something straight, you old fool. Whatever it is you're planning on blackmailing me with is a waste of time." Lord Voldemort pushed away from the wall to lean on the desk, his long fingers splayed over the top. Gellert could see his eyes. They were stone cold. Voldemort was always able to keep his wits about him during these stressful moments. It was a gift that he wielded over the old man. “You’ve got nothing. Potter and me, we’re two consenting adults. Even if it was he and I having a go in the school, I’m not a teacher. I'm just a regular guy who can fuck any consenting participant I want to, and it's legal, Gellert. I emphasise the word 'consenting', by the way. Maybe you've never heard of it or you choose to ignore it because, face it, who would let you fuck them willingly?" He laughed a humourless laugh at the sight of his old boss losing his bloody mind. "Priceless."

"You'll lose business, you'll lose clients, Tom," Grindelwald reminded him. "You'll lose Hestia!"

"Honestly, I'd be doing her a favour." Voldemort rolled his eyes. "At worst I’ll be outed as a bisexual - big fucking deal. Maybe I'll get a slap on the wrist and lose out on marrying your creepy little neice - that's a plus. But you…Well, it would be a shame if the authorities found out that your fondness for tall, pale boys with blond hair got Harry’s backside cut up. Potter getting it on with that Malfoy brat you want so badly burned you up, didn’t it?”

Grindelwald's eyes narrowed. “He shouldn’t be touching him. Malfoy was mine, you hear? He was promised to me. When I heard that he was shagging that commoner slut of yours, and you, Tom! You were fucking him too! He's impure.”

“Impure like me, right? Why would you care if I'm fucking him?” Voldemort smiled wickedly and tapped the newspaper on the desk. “Anyway, what were we talking about?” The front page had a photo of Harry on it. It was taken from long range. He was standing at the stables of the school with four blond haired boys. “Oh right. Your dislike for me and my discovered impurities of having a commoner father, just like Potter's commoner mother. You thought I was a pure blood so you murdered my sweet Lily because we were getting it on like Potter and Malfoy. She was not worthy. It was a travesty in your eyes. A real betrayal. Wound up killing her husband, too. Hell, you nearly killed their child. Wouldn’t it be something if this information and a few little pieces of evidence started showing up at the Prophet? That would probably be a bigger story than a video tape of two people having a good time, wouldn’t you think?”

Grindelwald froze. His eyes were as large as saucers. He pointed at Voldemort as he struggled to slow his racing heart and catch his breath. “Get him!” The two large men at his sides came around the desk. One raced to Voldemort and shoved him back against the wall, holding him there with a forearm to the neck and a gun to the face while the other searched his pockets. Grindelwald scrubbed his eyes with his hands to compose himself before addressing his former plaything. “I highly doubt you have evidence to back that up. You knew if you came here I’d kill you, Tom. I don't want to do this, I've never wanted to hurt you despite how badly you fucked me over...Why did you come?”

They threw the tall, dark haired man up against the desk, bending him over it. Lord Voldemort looked up at the aged Crime Lord with silver and gold ringlets of hair, smiling, laughing at him while they twisted hs arms up behind his back. “That’s my business.”

Grindelwald jerked a thumb behind him, looking grim. “Put him in with his little tart until I can figure out what to do with them.”

* * *

Harry gasped as the door flew open and Voldemort was shoved inside of the small, empty room. “TM!” he cried, throwing his arms around the man’s neck.

"Come here, love." Lord Voldemort moved them to the corner of the room as he looked around for cameras. “Did they hurt you?” He was checking the boy over for marks the instant they connected with the wall; grabbing his face, swaying it side by side. Harry had a bloody lip and his clothing was dishevelled and torn, but otherwise he looked okay.

He took the boy's hand, tapping the ring on his finger. “Put the ring in your mouth, under your tongue. Swallow it if you can. Don’t let them know you have it; it’s a tracking device.”

Harry did as he was told, slipping it off with a bit of saliva and swallowing it. It was very difficult; it got stuck, making him choke. Voldemort held his head up and rubbed his throat until it went down. He then pulled the boy back into his embrace, resting his lips against his ear. “They’re going to move us soon. This is Grindelwald’s main base of operations and this is the first place my people will come looking for us. Listen to me closely, Harry, they’re going tell us they’re going to kill us.”

Harry screwed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. “I was hoping you weren’t going to say that.”

“They’re going to say a lot of horrible things to scare you. They may even separate us.” Voldemort petted his hair as he hugged him closely to calm the despair. “That’s not what worries me. He can’t just off me. He needs to get special permission, there’s an etiquette we must follow and it takes a long time. Crime Lord, remember?” He winked at Harry. “My people know I came to collect you, they’ll find us with that ring.”

“What if they separate us?” Harry asked him, looking very worried, “Shouldn't you have taken the ring? How will they find you?”

"No," the man said, somewhat startled himself at his first act of true selflessness. "If they're going to find one of us I want it to be you." He snapped Harry's mouth shut for him. "Not another word about that."

"Hopefully they'll keep us together," Harry commented. He sighed against his lover, trying not to think about the near future. "Hey," he said after a moment of quiet, "if you get us out of this I'll make it very worth your while, and you won't even have to pay me back with teaching me to drive or anything. I swear."

Lord Voldemort laughed and kissed his hair while trying not to think about the part that did worry him. “Oh, I intend to get us out of this...I just don't know how yet.” They could hear shouting and footsteps by the door. The engines of automobiles began purring outside on the opposite side of the room. The move was being put into motion.

Voldemort tipped Harry's chin up to look him in the eye. “I’ll try to be brave enough for both of us, but I can’t promise you they’re not going to do terrible things to us. And I won’t be able to stop them when they go after you. And you won't be able to help when they do it to me...and they will, Harry. Whatever it is they do, try your best not to react to it, it only drives them to make it worse. Try not to think about what's happening, think about all the good things in the world...all the good times we've had together...and there will be more to come."

The lord finally lost his strong grip on his calm and sanity, and shuddered. He was a wicked man, he deserved anything coming to him. The only good thing he had managed to do before it was too late was save his son before he got taken, too. But Harry and he...neither of them would be the same, even if they both made it out of this nightmare alive. His mental walls crumbled. Harry didn't deserve this. He knew if he played with fire...if he continued this taboo relationship with Harry, that he'd get burned. And they were both about to be incinerated. He stumbled into Harry as the realisation set in. "Oh my God...what have I done? I'm so sorry, love...it's my fault. I’m so sorry you’ve been involved in this.”

“Hey, stop that. Look at me, TM; it’s going to be okay. I’m not afraid,” Harry whispered back, clutching the man as tightly as he could to keep him standing. For the first time since he met him he could see true fear in Voldemort's eyes. Fear for Harry's safety, fear of what they were going to do to him to punish his guardian. “Hold onto me, I've got you."

Harry pressed his lips to the man's cheek, and placed a kiss there, feeling the rough stubble scrape his skin. "It's time to grow up," he breathed to himself, "You can do this." And with a deep inhale, he found it within himself to face this horror, and he would be brave enough for himself and this man in his arms. He looked up at him with an invulnerable glare, cupping his face in his hands. "Look at me, TM. We can do this. We’ll deal with whatever happens, and we’ll get through this. I’ll play along and do whatever I have to in order for us to survive. And we will survive, I promise you that.”

Lord Voldemort forced himself to look at him. He was in awe, and he had never been in awe of another person at any point in his life until this very moment. “You know - you’re amazing, truly amazing, Harry. You're one of a kind. I knew it the moment I saw you during visiting day; there was someting about you...it lit a fire under me. It woke me up, made me want to live, really live." In return, he took the boy's face in his hands, and it came to him; he had to tell him before it was too late, before his ability to tell him was taken away. "I love you.”

Harry smiled through a chortle. “I know you do, TM." He gave him a big hug. He pressed his ear to his chest to feel his heart beat against it. He wanted to say it back but he was afraid if he did he would never see him again. But he did, he loved him. He loved him so much it hurt inside when he thought about losing him. He was too afraid to say it, he did not want this night to be their last together. Instead, he teased him to lighten the mood. "I knew it - you can’t resist me, can you?”

“You’re right,” Voldemort said and he kissed him. He cupped the back of his head, tipping him into his arms, tasting his sweet lips and velvety tongue as if it were the last time they’d ever kiss again. He threw his head back when it was done, taking a deep breath to calm his own nerves. Harry nuzzled back into his embrace. Voldemort wrapped his arms around him and looked at the door, hearing the lock click. “I really can’t resist you, Harry. That’s why I came.”

Cormac, Cassius and the more menacing of the large bodyguards entered the room. “Alright, turn around, cheeks and hands on the wall. We’re moving," the guard said. He moved in, turning the crime lord around and pushed him up against the wall. He twisted one of his arms up behind him, and snapped a cuff around his wrist.

Cassius b-lined for Harry. He threw himself at him, shoving him hard into the wall to cruelly wrench his arms up behind his back. He gripped him at the jaw. "Hey, baby. Miss me?"

“Not so rough,” Voldemort warned the boy, who, in turn, grabbed a handful of Harry’s hair and banged his head against the wall a few times.

Harry slumped, dazed, against it. Cassius snickered as he shoved him back up against the wall. He wedged a knee between his legs to part them, his eyes on the crime lord the whole time. "I'm just getting warmed up, Voldemort. I'm taking him to heaven tonight when we get to our destination." He wagged his eyebrows at the man while he squeezed Harry's jaw with rigid fingers. "Got big plans for these cock-sucking lips of his."

Voldemort remained calm despite the threatening words jumpstarting his heart. “When I get free I’m going to hurt you personally, Mr Warrington. I pay people to do that for me on a regular basis, but I'm going to make a special exception,” he said, almost in jest, locking eyes with the young man, “just for you.”

Cassius paused for a moment. The man looked and sounded so much like his son. It started to get to him. They both had a calmness to them, a cold demeanour that chilled his spine. “Well, too bad for you - you’re not getting out. Grindelwald's not letting you go.” He raised a smile and ran his tongue up the side of Harry’s face while pressing his pelvis against him. The guard pulled Voldemort away from the wall. Cassius continued his assault, smothering Harry's mouth with his lips while squeezing his jaw open with his fingertips to get his tongue inside.

They stood there for a moment while Cassius forced himself on Harry. He had him up against the wall with his body, sucking on his neck while his hands roamed up under his clothing. With his hands cuffed behind his back, the boy was helpless to defend himself. Warrington pressed his forearm into his throat to choke him out, watching Voldemort to see what his reaction would be. “He's so kinky. He loves it when I do this. _Don’t you, Potter?_ ” He grabbed the boy by the hair and nodded his head for him while he laughed.

It was killing the man, even if he was feigning boredom, watching Harry endure the groping letcher draped all over him for as long as he had. Fortunately, his reactions were kept very minimal, he was handling himself well. The lord couldn’t think of a worse situation to be stuck in but couldn’t think of a better person to be stuck with. “You’ve made you point, you little pervert. You can force him to tolerate your repulsive advances. Bravo," he said lowly.

"He can take a helluva lot more than this, you bastard. Ask him about the drive over here. He was begging for it. He was all over me," Cassius bragged as he resumed strangling Potter with his forearm. "Tell em, Cormac. Tell him how badly he wanted to suck me off in the back of the car."

"Yeah, he loved it," McLaggen said as he stepped up next to his dorm mate to help hold Potter up against the wall, "he was begging him to choke him out with it."

"Oh, is that so?" Watching them accost the precious light in his dark life, Voldemort cleared his throat while his eyes moved to the guard standing beside him, narrowing to give him a brief look of dominant hatred. "Do something," he mouthed to him.

"Hey, knock it off," the guard growled, as he took a swing at the blond-haired young men, causing them to jump back to avoid it. "Boss says they get there unharmed, don't mark him."

"Did they force you to do something to them, Harry?" Voldemort asked the boy as he recovered from his injuries through a fit of rough coughing. The lord's teeth clenched while his fingers curled up into fists. His whole body went rigid from fury.

"Wouldn't you like to know. That's between me and him, ain't it?" Cassius blurted. He pressed his hand over Harry's mouth to keep him quiet. He kissed his neck, moaning, oblivious to Harry rolling his eyes at the act in response. But even that did not undo what Voldemort believed had been done to his lover against his will.

As if he wasn't there, Voldemort stayed on Harry after giving the guard a kick to keep him on the boys. "Look at me, Harry. Did they hurt you?" His eyes roamed over the two large boys standing over their prisoner in such a threatening manner. If he could get away with murdering them both without further risking Harry's life both boys would be lying in a pool of blood at their feet by now. "What did you two fucking dead men do to him?" he demanded.

"Don't dwell on that," Harry said as he watched the massive guard shove the two boys aside, and added, "Please, TM, relax. Don't worry, I'm okay," as he leaned up against him to give him warmth.

"No..." The words did not comfort the man no matter how strong Harry appeared after being molested in front of an audience. This crime had become someting more than causing him jealousy, more than frustration or helplessness - this was a direct violation of the treaty that he, Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald had come to agree upon many, many years ago. Grindelwald had broken every single rule as of yet...and the one that made him feel somewhat secure, him not being murdered before he had a meeting with Dumbledore about his fate, would most likely not be honoured either. But even that paled in the shadow of what they had done to Harry. "Listen to me, honey - You're not okay. They're not going to stop, they are not going to let up on you no matter how you react. Forget what I said earlier; I want you to fight. Fight like it's the last thing left for you to do."

Harry looked up at Voldemort, searching his visage for something beautiful he could hold onto, to remember when it got bad, and according to him it would get bad. "I will, TM," he replied quickly in response.

"No fighting. Get Potter out of here now." The guard beside Voldemort placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping his lurch before he did something he would get them all killed over. "C'mon now, Lord Voldemort, he's waiting for us in the lorry. Let's not get the boy killed before we reach our new location."

Something inside the lord began to warm, that part of him that had cooled with fear earlier suddenly became alight from a spark of malevolence taking hold of his conscience. Whatever they had done to his lover, whatever it was, it would never compare to what he was going to do to them once he got free. Harry was a superior to these monsters taking liberties with him, body and soul. No one had the right to touch him without his concent. It drove him mad. Something snapped. He rose up as he inclined his head like a snake, dying to strike them both in the throats and tear them out with his teeth. "You should know, Warrington...McLaggen, if anything happens to us all of Grindelwald’s remaining boys still at my school are dead. We rounded them all up shortly before I left. I hope you don’t care about any of them, that would be a shame.”

“You can’t do that,” Cormac breathed back, unsure whether Voldemort could really would hurt them.

Cassuis stopped molesting Harry to study the man’s body language. “That's against the rules. You can’t hurt them.”

"Rules? So we're following rules now?" Voldemort's visage grew somber. “And no, I won’t hurt them. How can I; I’m not there. Others are there, though. Lots of others with very specific orders and a hatred to the core for your sleazy boss. Do you honestly think I’d come here without a little insurance?”

Cormac snarled at Cassius. “Don’t listen to him!”

The crime lord's lips curled up in a wicked grin. “I do believe that Wood and Davies never made it out. I know for a fact Pettigrew is dead. I made damn sure of that.”

“Wood and Davies? I thought…”

"We should go now," the guard said, giving Voldemort a polite shove, but he was stone.

Voldemort smiled sweetly. “Have you told Harry yet that you’re the ones who assaulted him on Halloween, the ones who cut him up? I found the evidence in your lockers. When we get free I’ll let him cut you two little bitches up.”

“These two?” Harry said angrily. “They’re the ones who attacked me?”

“Mhmm,” Voldemort hummed, still emotionless. “These two little interbred lap dogs. I heard about the incident at the stables with them and you, I had to see what they were up to.”

“Look, we did that for Davies…”

“Shut up, Cassius!”

Voldemort ignored them, focusing only on Harry. He was the only thing that mattered to him at that moment. He lowered his voice to a frightening level, and in the dim lighting it appeared to everyone that his eyes were glowing blood-red. His beauty diminished, washed away through primal vengance and covetous desire. He towered over them, his swallowing shadow that of a psychopathic wraith. He was no longer the cunning leading man he portrayed himself as; he was a villain. “I'm gonna get em back for you. It's gonna be beautiful, baby. I'm going to make them pay for what they did to you.”

“Calm down, TM, please. Don't worry about me,” Harry replied, finding himself frightened of what he was witnessing, a birth of a true monster. "We're going to be okay. I need you to keep your wits, I need you to stay with me." He was immediately pushed back up against the wall. Both aryan boys latched onto him like bottomfeeders, trying to humiliate him and drive the crime lord insane. Harry looked back at Voldemort as if that hadn’t happened. His lip twitched with wicked understanding now, seeing his lover transform, feeling himself grow large through the need to win. “But if you're going to let me cut them up, I'm definitely holding you to that.”

The guard grabbed the crime lord to hold him back. He wrapped an arm around his neck, cutting off any more words he dared to spew while he snarled at the boys. “Get the boy in the lorry!”

Cassius bent down, putting his weight into Harry’s gut to heft him over his shoulder. “Right.”

“Remember what I said about Harry. Do keep that in mind,” Voldemort reminded him as they passed him. “All of the unfortunate boys in my school will die. I do believe your brother is one of them. Bletchley, right? Got him picked out special. I'll have him skinned alive.”

* * *

The drive through the back and side streets went very fast. They took several sharp twists and turns, making Harry feel quite nauseas. Before they knew it, the doors flung open and Harry was grabbed, lifted up by the two dorm eight students, who carried him along through the darkness until they reached two rusty metal doors. Cormac unlocked the chain holding the doors together and shoved one open with a shoulder. Cassius attached his lips to Harry's neck as he dragged him inside. "C'mon, sweetheart, we've got a date to catch up on."

Stepping out of the vehicle, Lord Voldemort sighed, feeling his hope get dashed once again. “Here?” He looked around at his surroundings, frowning. It would be no easy task finding them, but it wasn’t an impossibility. The place was a school. It had been long since abandoned. Sitting on the grounds of the orphanage he grew up in, he had attended the school as a young adult. It was where he became acquainted with most of his followers and Death Eaters. It was the place ruled by his former ringleader.

He was gently nudged forward. The bodyguard took great care not to harm this man. Voldemort’s expensive suit showed no signs of any sort of struggle. The guard lit a cigarette and held it up to his mouth, letting him trap it between his teeth. “Much obliged, Mulciber. You remember this place?”

“Oh, yes, my Lord,” he replied, scanning over the old, boarded up building. “How could I forget? Time of our lives, right?”

Voldemort grew forlorn. “Change of plans. I’m going to need you to leave, get to my office. It’ll be difficult getting here with only the signal. It’s far too concealed.”

"No," Mulciber spat. He looked around the grounds, searching for watching eyes. “I need to stay with you, Tom. I'm not leaving you with these two gorillas, there's no telling what they have planned. But one thing's for sure - they’re going to hurt you both. These two are the worst of his sychophants. If I'm gone I won’t be able to protect you.”

“I’m well aware." Voldemort walked up the winding passage as if taking an evening stroll. "I can't risk Gellert having eyes on us inside. If you interfere and he sees this he'll mow us all down in a heartbeat. I need you to slip away the instant you can. Lead the Death Eaters back here. That’s an order.”

Mulciber shivered, fearing the worst. But an order was an order. “Yes. Of course, my Lord.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this please give me kudos if you can!


	19. Cry, Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our hero is put to the test in the worst way. Life will change, and he finds himself unable to cope. But who is that bloke in black who can fence better than the others?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible trigger warning for anyone sensitive to eluding to and explicit language about sexual assault. There is some violence in this chapter. Please take care to skip the top half of the chapter if you are sensitive to this.

“…and he told him he’d only started fencing a week ago. What a load of dung. _Get up, Potter!_ ” 

“Stay down, Harry.” 

“Shut that sonuvabitch up, Cormac!” 

“It’s alright, I’ve got this. He’s no good,” Harry said, thrusting his foil up defensively to block the incoming blow. The loud smack of metal against metal resounded through the room. He pushed up from the floor, balancing on a hand and a knee as another fast swipe came crashing down at him. The instant he blocked it he pushed off the floor to stand. The boarded up classroom was dark. There was no electricity running through the school, only a lantern sitting on the teacher’s desk gave off any light. It was difficult to see clearly, fortunately Cassius was dressed in his fencing whites. 

Lord Voldemort seethed. “What a brave lad you are. Twice his weight, using a real sword…When I get free I’m going to hold you down and let Harry do whatever he wants to you, you little cunt.” 

Cormac cinched his arm around Lord Voldemort’s neck, forcing the chair to tip back as he hefted him up as far as he could. “Stop talking, Voldemort, I’m warning you. I’d hate for you to miss what we do to your little girlfriend if I have to choke you out.” He held onto him while addressing his comrade, watching the crime lord struggle to breathe. “And I wanna see this guy lose it so bad. I heard he’s always ice, but I’m gonna break him.” 

“Let him go!” Harry shouted, backing up a step. He flicked the blade of his practice foil up, slashing the offending boy’s cheek with its edge. Immediately after, he felt Cassius’s sabre pierce through his flesh. He stumbled back grasping his shoulder. 

Cassius burst forth with laughter as he swished his sabre around in the air. “You have to call it when I strike you, Potter, that was my point!” 

“Toughen up, Potter!” Cormac shouted. “Stay on your toes or he’ll get you again!” 

Cassius cocked his head at the gangster tied to an old wooden chair in the centre of the room, noting his current unconscious status. “He’s going to miss my big finish if he’s sleeping! Wake him up, Cormac!” 

“Wake up, Lord Voldemort; your boy’s not looking so good,” Cormac commented, slapping the man’s cheek a few times to bring him back into consciousness. “I’m thinking two or three more jabs should bleed him out enough for us to catch him and finish him off.” 

“Harry, don’t worry about me- Don’t take your eyes off of him,” Voldemort ordered the moment he stirred back into wakefulness. He snarled and jerked at his restraints while Cormac nursed his cheek. 

And Harry was injured, he had been stabbed several times; his white t-shirt was painted with blood all over the front of it. Voldemort had told him to kill the boy many times, as many as he could relay to him, to just take his life so they could leave - but the boy wouldn’t do that. Although he was wielding an inferior weapon, it was possible to injure someone with it, enough to disarm them. Harry was careful with his attacks, though, he was pulling his punches. He put a value on human life, not just his own. As boggling as that seemed to the man he had to respect it. He just hoped it didn’t cost the boy their lives because of it. “At least give him his glasses back.” 

Cassius huffed. “This slut’s doing fine. Probably lied about needing those, too. What don’t you lie about, Potter?” 

Harry scoffed. “I’m not lying when I say you’re terrible at fencing.” 

Scowling, Cassius lunged forward. 

Harry parried and riposted, then shoved his shoulder into Cassius’s gut, doubling him over, knocking him to the ground. 

Cormac came around the chair Lord Voldemort was tied to, snatching at Harry as the boy ran over to the spot Cormac was first standing. 

“Cover your fingers up,” Harry whispered.

"Kitten, listen to me - for the love of God finish him off," Voldemort whispered up at the boy. 

"I'm trying my best, TM," Harry whispered back before he swished his blade at Cormac again, startling him, causing him to stop his advance for a brief moment. He brought his foil down and yanked it upward, drawing the blade hard and fast on the rope secured around Voldemort’s right wrist. As quickly as he could he returned to face Cassius, who was on his feet again and running towards him. 

The dull blade didn’t sever the rope but the amount it frayed was a good start. “Just stay away from them, sweetheart, please. Keep moving,” Voldemort called out, seeing both boys advancing on their captive in a far more threatening manner than they had earlier and knowing Harry would not hurt either of them the way he wanted him to. The only outcome to this predicament would be messy if he got caught. He clenched up with hatred. He was unable to think straight anymore. All he wanted to do was protect that innocent boy from these two monsters who were trying to best him. “Leave him alone. Haven't you done enough to him already? He’s hurt, can’t you see that?” 

“This fucking bitch deserves everything I do to him.” Cassius stopped to catch his breath, tired of chasing him around. He looked very angry. “Ugh, I’m tired of chasing this commoner tart all over the room. I want to play a new game.” 

Cormac followed suit and leaned up against a wall. Harry kept his distance between the two as far apart as possible. “Sounds like a plan. What would you like to play?” 

“Ooh, that one Gellert suggested before he sent us in here. He said that Lord Voldemort would be able to relate to it, seeing as he got it done to him hundreds of times by all the gangsters he owed money to. It’s called, ‘Rip all my clothes off and rape me all night long while my boyfriend watches it happen’. It sounds like a lot more fun than chasing tail, that’s for sure.” 

“Oh, I love that game! And how exciting that you can relate to this; because you’re just as big a half-breed whore that Fairy Potter is!” Cormac said loudly, grinning like an idiot and slapping the man’s cheek again to cause a great sting. He bent over to look him in the eye. “Gellert said to make sure we did it right here on the floor in front of you so you could watch. So it would be the last thing you see. When we’re done, Grindelwald’s going to come in here and put one through the back of your head while your little plaything watches it happen. It's like a give and take thing; you watch him get fucked in every hole in his body and then he watches your brains splatter all over the floor. Best part - Gellert said we get to keep Potter here and we can do anything we want to him  - any time we want to. All of us…he’ll be passed around like a candy dish we’re gonna keep filling up with our spunk, just like a good little tart that he is deserves. Not a bad deal, eh?” 

Voldemort smirked, as if everything being said amused him. “That’s sweet. Oh, by the way…you know those instructions I left at the school if anything happened to us? I told you they were specific, didn’t I? Check my pocket here," he replied as he glanced down at his jacket breast pocket. He tipped his head back while Cormac fished out a piece of folded parchment.

The boy moved over to the lantern as he unfolded the note to read it while Voldemort turned his glare on Cassius. "I'll tell you what it says to save some time here: your brother’s going to suffer for hours in the most gruesome manner before he dies.” He kept twisting his wrist and scratching the spot in the rope that had been cut. “Flayed, I believe Rookwood called it. Is that what he wrote down, Mr McLaggen? Flayed?"

Cormac dropped the note through a moment of weakness. He said nothing.

Voldemort shrugged, playing it as cool as he could in order to keep these two away from Harry for as long as he could. "Rookwood is a brilliant man; a scientist, he also does the most amazing tattoos. He's also a monster, a certified psychopath who has escaped from Azkaban Prison more than once. He took a real shine to your brother’s sweet little arse when I delivered him to him, Warrington. I told him to keep him warm while he awaits this outcome. Who knows though; maybe he won't kill him after he grows bored with peeling all of his skin off. Maybe he’ll keep the poor sod alive just enough to do whatever you plan on doing to Harry. One could hope, I guess.” 

Cassius gasped in horror. He began to pant with worry. He opened his mouth to protest but his friend shook his head. 

“Ignore him, he’s lying,” Cormac said, seeing Cassius stop his Harry chasing to look at Voldemort. He back-kicked the note to hide it and moved over to the chair. He grabbed Voldemort's necktie, wrapping the excess length around his fist, then yanked it upward, cutting off any more words coming from that forked tongue of his. He reassured his friend that nothing was going to happen, even if the note described exactly what Voldemort had said a moment before. “It didn't say anything like that. He’s going to lie, he's going to say anything to scare us into not gangbanging his little tart."

Furious, Cormac leaned down in front of the crime lord again as he watched him struggle to breathe. He wagged a roll of duct tape in front of him. "You better shut your fucking mouth right now, bitch, or I'll wrap this tape all around Harry's pretty face before I take him down and pound him like the little pussy that he is." He released the tie, letting Voldemort breathe freely again once he gave him a nod. He then turned, pointing at the victim waiting for them to assault him in the corner of the room. "Time's up, Potter. We finally get to see them little undies you've got on.” He slapped Cassius on the arm. "Let's make this good, play our cards right to make him think his whore's dying; I wanna see Voldemort cry." 

“Right.” 

Cormac and Cassius walked together at an angle to keep Harry from fleeing. 

“Leave him alone.” Lord Voldemort could see how badly his young lover was trying to stay brave as the two muscular men closed in on him, forcing him back into the corner. “Don't touch him! Don’t do this!” 

"Calm down, TM!" Harry shouted back as he hunched down in the dark corner in hopes to sprint free between the two aggressors. "Keep your wits about you, TM. We're gonna get through this! It's going to be all right!"

"But it's not going to be all right, you little bitch. Not at all, Potter!" McLaggen hissed in response. Both boys grabbed part of Harry before he could weasel past them. The sabre and practice sword fell to the ground with a resounding snap. Cassius curled his body around him and fell back onto the floor while Cormac grabbed a knife from a school desk and bent over them. "It's not going to be all right for the rest of your life, slut." Looking up at the crime lord, Cormac began to laugh as he cut a large piece of Harry's t-shirt away. "We're gonna draw this out until Gellert gets here, Lord Voldemort. He figures if we truss this little pig up to keep him from fighting back, we should be able to go at him for hours before he arrives to finish you off." 

Struggling to speak, Harry lost the courage to look at Voldemort anymore. It was so dark in the room but he was sure he'd see that fear in his eyes again, that look that told him this was going to be the single worst night of both of their lives. "Please don't watch, TM," was the last thing he managed to say before he was silenced.

"Oh you better watch, TM," Cassius mocked.

“Why won't you just kill me and let him go?” Voldemort asked them in vain, trying as hard as he could to slow their actions while he jerked at his restraints. “Harry won’t say anything about this, he won’t tell anyone. Or give him to Dumbledore - it’s his boy anyway - just give him back to Dumbledore. He’ll keep him away from the police. Don't hurt him--please don't hurt him!" 

They ignored him. They tore at Harry’s clothing and taped his wrists together in front of him. Cassius shoved the wad of t-shirt into his mouth and held it there with a thumb while Cormac ripped off another long piece of duct tape, all the while laughing at the rival crime boss as he watched him start to panic. 

“Goddammit, Gellert!” Voldemort shouted as his head whipped back and forth, hoping the aged bastard was jerking off to this show in a dark corner or an adjacent room. His continued struggle to break out of his bonds bloodied his wrists, but the pain was the last thing on his mind. He could think of nothing else other than sparing Harry any more of this nightmare. He could see the raw terror brimming inside the boy, whose bloodied chest was rising and falling at an accelerated rate, unable to keep up with his dire need for oxygen. He found himself screaming, begging his rival for mercy. “C’mon, Grindelwald, I’ve learnt my lesson, alright?! You win, okay?! You have to stop this madness right now! He’s just a boy! They’re killing him!” 

“Ooh.” Cormac paused for a moment after sealing the thick strip of tape over Harry’s mouth. He dropped to his knees beside Cassius and began undoing Harry’s jeans, but his eyes never left Voldemort. His hands moved up along Harry’s torso, groping him, stopping at his throat. He curled his fingers around it and began to squeeze. “Keep begging like that. Make it count, sir, or this is going to go very badly for your little half-blood whore.” 

Cassius wrapped his legs around Potter to anchor him down, and held his head back against his shoulder while Cormac choked him. He reached up and pinched the boy’s nostrils closed to ensure he took no breath. “Oh god, he’s right on my dick. Keep doing that!” 

“This is your last warning,” Voldemort told them both, finding no solace in pleading to anyone. “Let him go and I won’t murder you both.” His eyes were narrowed, bloodshot, his teeth bared. Every muscle in his body contracted with hatred as he fought to free himself, to save Harry from a lifelong trauma he was about to endure. He twisted his wrist through his anger, using it like fuel with all of his strength, pulling it away from the arm of the chair it was trussed to, so hard he lost all feeling in his hand. The rope snapped. 

He stood up quickly, grabbing the wooden back of the chair with the one hand still bound to it. Using his momentum, he brought it around in front of him and slammed it on top of Cormac before he could scramble away, crushing him into the floor beneath him. The chair splintered, split and fell apart. 

Cormac gulped for breath, finding his lungs collapsing inside of him. 

Voldemort kicked Cassius in the face as hard as he could. He turned and grabbed Harry by the shoulders, pulling him up to his feet. He focused his attention on freeing his hands so he could defend himself. Once that was done, he ripped the tape off his face and pulled him into a hug before turning toward the door to get him out of there. 

Without thinking, Cassius was on his feet with his sabre in hand and thrust it deep into the lord’s side so he could stop him from escape. He pulled it back in horror, suddenly realising what he had just done. 

Voldemort’s eyes went wide with disbelief. He gasped without sound while his muscles went rigid through the shock to his system. The pain was strong, but the damages to his organs the weapon pierced were crippling. 

“TM? What's...No...” Harry whispered, feeling the man holding him fail to take another step. Lord Voldemort dropped to his knees in front of Cassius, who blinked repeatedly in disbelief. He then fell on his side with a weak groan as his face smacked against the wooden floorboards. 

“NO!” Harry tackled the stunned boy, grabbed a hunk of his curly blond hair and slammed his face down on the floor several times until he stopped trying to fight back. He took the sword and stood back up, grabbed Lord Voldemort’s hand and dragged him back with him toward the darkest corner of the room. Without light it was impossible to see how pale he had gone, how weak he appeared despite the strength he was now showing. His eyes narrowed in pure hatred. “You stay away from us, you motherfuckers. I’m warning you…I’ll kill you.” 

“Is he okay? I didn’t mean it,” Cassius said as he squinted in the darkness to access the damage he had done to the crime lord, shaking, his nose broken and bleeding. Cormac was crying and hugging his broken ribs. Cassius stumbled over and helped his friend stand up. “I’ll get someone…No, I can’t…he’ll kill me. He told me not to hurt him.” 

“Get out right now or I’ll kill you,” Harry informed them, knowing his words were true. It was at the forefront of his mind to do it anyway, just kill both boys for doing this to them in the first place, but he refused to break the skin contact between he and Voldemort. He needed to feel his warm hand inside his. He thrust the sabre's blade at the door. “I swear to God I’ll kill you both without mercy if you don't leave now.” 

* * *

In the darkness nothing stirred. The lantern had long since burned out. A bloody sabre lay next to the boy. Harry was sure that their attackers would tell someone or someone would come check up on them, but no one did. The wait seemed like an eternity, it was more torturous than the events leading up to it. He closed his eyes for a moment, unsure how long he could stay in that position. The world was starting to spin and it was so cold. 

“I don’t know if I’ve told you yet,” Harry said, taking his thumb out of his mouth to speak. He had Lord Voldemort’s head cradled in his lap. “That's not true...I haven't said it yet because I was afraid to. I was afraid if I told you the truth that something bad might happen…but something bad happened anyway.” 

Lord Voldemort said nothing. 

Harry sighed a shaky breath and continued, needing to say it in case it was his last opportunity to do so. “I haven’t told you yet that I love you.” 

The dark room held little warmth. Through the single beam of moonlight coming through a missing knot of a board, Harry could see his eyes looking up at him. They didn’t glow any more, and they didn’t move, didn’t search. “Because I do. I love you, TM.” His hand was pressed flat over the man’s side. He touched the man's face with the other. His skin was so cold. “Can you still hear me? Talk to me, say something.” 

“I’m still here,” Lord Voldemort said softly. He smiled up at the brave boy, so proud of Harry’s strength when he knew that he was just as damaged as he was. Maybe even more so than he was. “And I know you do, I know you love me, kitten. You didn’t have to say it.” 

Harry cringed through the pain that kept hitting him in waves. He bit his bottom lip for a moment until it subsided enough to speak. “I wanted to say it to you. I really want you to know how much I care about you, TM.” 

Voldemort nuzzled his head deeper into the boy’s lap so he could look up at him without getting any dizzier than he already was. “Well…I already know.” His eyes moved then, searching. “And you’re sure there’s no cigarettes in this room?” 

Prickling with annoyance, Harry thought to bite the man before he remembered why they were stuck there in that cold, dark room. “No, there’s not any left. Drop it already, okay?” He rubbed the man’s cheek under his palm to warm him up. “And I know you love me. And you’re not leaving me, not after this. Not after everything we just went through.” 

“I’ll try...I'll try my best.” The crime lord weakly flicked his fingers upward, smirking. “C’mon now, stop blubbering. Put that back in your mouth.” 

Harry laughed through a sob and did as he was told. Tears rolled down his cheeks, salting the numerous cuts and scratches adorning them. His vision was sorely out of focus, more from blood loss than his missing glasses. He had no idea how long they had been there but it felt like years. Blood oozed between his fingers on the hand he was holding over Voldemort’s stab wound. His own torn t-shirt was soaked with his own.

Growing more and more lethargic, the boy felt himself losing the battle to stay alive. It was too hard to stay sitting anymore, too hard to keep his eyes open, too hard to think. His thumb slipped past his lips, his hand fell into his lap. The spinning grew stronger. He and Voldemort were ice cold to the touch. "I'm not gonna make it," he said outright, although he thought he said it in his head.

"Yes you are," Voldemort argued through a incensed growl. He gritted his teeth with his own unbearable pain, and having to watch Harry slump forward. Blessedly, he caught himself with a hand pressed down on the floor at the last second to keep himself upright. There was strength left in him yet, he just needed to be reminded of it. "You got moxie, kid. And they're coming, I promise you they're coming to help us. I know you're...you're going to make it."

Taking an unsteady breath, Harry looked deep inside of himself to find the strength to stay sitting so Voldemort could keep his head in his lap, and he could keep his hand on his face so he could feel him breathing and know that he was still alive. "I'll try my best, TM."

"Fucking burning up here," the man grumbled as he reached up to undo his tie. Harry stilled his hand. Voldemort stopped to look up into the boy's eyes. A soft laugh hummed in his throat. He cupped the boy's hand inside of his and took a deep breath to fight off the darkness one last time before it was too late. "Hey, kitten, look at me," he said as tears leaked out of the end corners of his eyes. "Move on from this, promise me. You'll have a long life, Harry. You're going to make it." And with that knowledge, Voldemort sighed at the touch of Harry's hand again cupping his cheek. He leaned into it, needing so badly to feel him against his own skin, now positive this amazing young man was going to make it out of this nightmare. That's all that mattered, that's all he could think about as his mind drifted off and went silent.

The room went still. Harry was crying as softly as he could as the last of his will bled out of him. And then it happened: something made a _*pop*_ noise outside. And then there was another loud banging noise coming through the wooden boards on the windows. The sounds of something being crunched pounded nearby, giving Harry a start. “Did you…I hear something.” He looked around the dark room, trying to focus on the direction the strange commotion he was hearing. Soon after, gunshots could be heard in the distance. Someone was screaming, there were more loud banging sounds nearby, crashing and breaking like glass, and someone was shouting for Lord Voldemort. His adrenaline soared through his icy veins once more. He went stiff with excitement, and he shook the man’s head in his lap to rouse him. “They’re here, TM! _We’re in here!_ _”_ Harry screamed. “ _Please hurry! Please, he’s dying!”_  

The knob jiggled and turned a notch. Someone forced their weight against the rotting door. It easily gave. Torchlight flooded into the room. A woman stuck her head inside and looked around before entering. She crossed the room quickly and dropped down on the floor beside them. She checked the man’s pulse. She held up something in her hand and spoke. “They’re in the back of the school, last classroom on the east side. Get here with Tom and that doctor as fast as you can. All of you get in here right now, this is dire.” 

Bellatrix Lestrange eased Harry’s hand off of the wound to cover it with hers while looking at the doorway. She lifted Voldemort’s head up, taking its weight off of Harry's lap. She cradled it in her lap then while she comforted the crying boy in front of her. “It’s okay, Harry. It's going to be all right. We’re going to take care of him.” 

Another woman entered the room shortly after. She came up behind Harry put her hands under his arms, and wrenched him up to his feet. “Let me get you out of here, sweetheart. I need to get you to safety.” 

Harry felt his contact with Voldemort slip away from him. He winced. He was in so much pain, he felt so weak. “Please let me stay with him, Ms Granger; he’s really hurt. They hurt him so bad...He needs me, I’m not leaving him,” he pleaded, shrugging her off and collapsing to his knees. Hermione Granger felt the sticky fluid caked to the palms of her hands. Harry reached out to touch the man on the floor. He couldn’t see his eyes anymore. He couldn’t find the energy to stand again. "TM, look at me." 

“Oh my God, Harry, what did they do to you two?” Lestrange stammered with a worried look on her face, shining her torch on them, spotting how near death Harry appeared to look. “Lay down, don’t move now." She shone the torch light on the other teacher. "Hermione, make him lay down.” 

“What is this? “Hermione whispered in confusion. She shined her torch on the spot where Harry was sitting and gasped. “Blood. There's so much blood. Harry, is this your blood?”

Bellatrix gritted her teeth in frustration. "Yes, Hermione, it's his blood." She gestured for the young teacher to aid the boy before he lost any more. 

Snapping to her senses, Ms Granger coaxed Harry down to the floor on his back. "Shh, hush now, sweetheart, it's okay. I know it hurts, just lay back." She got on her knees and put her hands over the spots on his chest that were the most sodden, pressing over them to slow the loss. Harry's heart beat rapidly under her palms. His breathing had quickened, trying to keep up with his heart. He fell into hypovolemic shock, grown so pale and confused beyond any sort of rationality from that point on, and fell in and out of consciousness every few seconds. Lord Voldemort made no sound at all, nor did he try to move. Hermione was not sure whether he was still alive. She focused her attention on the boy, knowing if that doctor and Tom got there soon he'd have a good chance of coming out of this situation alive. “You try and stay with me, honey. Help is coming for you both. It’s going to be okay. Stay with me, Harry, please stay with me.” 

The sounds of heavy footsteps pounded into the room. Torchlight beams crossed and pooled over both victims. There was a lot of strange fussing, hushed whispering and yelling, poking and prodding. Harry could see Tom. Tom’s face was so close to his but he wasn’t looking at him. He was doing something that had his attention; tearing his shirt, pressing on his chest. He touched his face, patted his cheek. “Can you see me? Eh, baby, can you hear me? Say ‘yes’ if you hear me.” 

“Yes,” Harry managed to reply. His eyes stopped working, refusing to centre on anything any more. "I hear you, Tom...I hear you." 

Tom exhaled a great sigh. He smiled and patted the other boy’s cheek. “It’s okay, you’re safe now. Hang in there, Har. We’re getting you out of here.” 

Harry felt his body being lifted. He turned his head, looked for Voldemort but there were too many people around him. Tom was next to him, righting his head so he could only see the darkness above him. “It’s okay, Harry. Relax now, close your eyes.” 

And he did, and did not open them again for a long time. 

* * *

Harry opened his eyes. The room was so bright. He blinked several times as he adjusted to it. He was in a hospital bed, and he wasn’t alone. Tom was sleeping in a chair beside him. He reached out to touch him and saw that his ring was back on his finger. He shook Tom’s knee. “Wake up.” 

“Hey, you.” Tom stretched and yawned and leaned forward in his chair to squeeze Harry’s hand. He had a sad smile, a look that did not flatter his handsome face. He looked very stressed out. “How are you feeling?” 

Harry ignored that. “Where’s Voldemort?” 

Tom looked down. “Harry…” 

Harry felt his heart break in two. “Where is he?” 

Unable to look him in the eye, Tom kept his head down. “I’m sorry, baby. The doctors did their very best to save him, but he didn’t make it.” 

 _No._ “Don’t say that.” 

Tom squeezed Harry’s hand a little harder. “I’m sorry.” 

Harry’s heart hurt. It was broken, cracked right in two. It would never beat right again. “Oh god. Oh, Tom, I’m sorry.” 

Tom got up and climbed onto the bed to hold him. “Don’t cry, baby. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” He held him in his arms while the boy cried, petting his hair and wiping the tears that leaked from his eyes. “Everything’s changed so much in just a few short days. It’s been a whirlwind. I don’t think I’ve come to terms with this yet.” 

Harry couldn’t understand why he had lived when Voldemort had died. It made no sense. It should have been him. He was just an orphan, a charity case with no hope for a bright future, but Lord Voldemort was a very powerful man. He commanded a small army and oversaw business in ways he could never even hope to understand. And those two boys who did this to them were both still alive, he was certain, and they would probably never pay for what they had done. “It should have been me. He was so strong, Tom. He stayed so strong to the very end. He saved me. He saved my life but I couldn’t save his.” 

Holding him tighter, Tom almost laughed. “Are you kidding me? You did save his life, Harry. He changed so much after meeting you. He became someone I could admire.” He cupped the boy’s face in his hands so he could see the truth in his eyes. “He never showed me love before, you know? Well, not really, not like he did during Christmas. It was something I’ve always wanted, and I think he wanted it too, he just didn’t know how to show love in the right way. You taught him how. You changed him like you’ve changed Malfoy and me. You have no idea how much you’ve saved us.” 

Harry hugged him. “Yeah, well, you say that now, but I need to tell you something before I lose my nerve. Please don’t hate me.” He buried his face in Tom’s chest. “I fell in love with him…I’m so sorry, Tom, I didn’t mean to do it.” 

Tom kissed the top of his head. “I know you did, baby. We’ve both known for a while now. We could see it happening.” He tipped the other boy’s chin up, wiped his cheek with his fingers and smiled that sad smile again. “It’s okay, we’re not upset. And don’t be sorry, no one plans for these things to happen; they just do.” 

It would never happen again, not to him, and not like this. He would never love another…never again. After a shaky breath, Harry looked Tom in the eye. And it was hard to look at him, hard to see his father’s handsome features in him but know that it was not him, it would never be him. He was truly alone now, and he vowed to himself right then and there that he would never love again. “What are we gonna do now?” 

Tom shifted onto his back after brushing Harry’s hair back away from his forehead. “They closed the school. Everything got out. The teachers with students, the corruption, the scandals, everything. Basically everyone has been arrested. Even Malfoy’s father. Let’s put it this way, if my father would have made it he’d be spending the rest of his life in Azkaban next to Morfin and Grindelwald.” He smiled and gave Harry a playful nudge, hoping he’d stop crying. “Most of us have been accepted to another school for our sort, you included. Draco’s already there. I’m taking you when you get released. It’s called Hogwarts. The headmaster was a professor of mine some years back. My father ruled this place when he attended. You’re going to love it.” 

“Hogwarts? I thought he was at that place you found us, Durmstrang?” 

“He was originally, but Dumbledore got him out of that awful place, got him a scholarship. He’s another gangster, but not like my father or even Grindelwald; he’s sort of a goody goody Robin Hood type. He’s strange, eccentric, and mad as a hatter. They go way back, this rivalry of theirs and Grindelwald’s. Anyway, when we get there you’ll be sorted into a house and it’d better be Slytherin. Ron and the most of the other dorm mates we had got into Gryffindor. Bloody wankers, goody goody brutes like Dumbledore.” 

Harry’s eyes widened. This new school sounded very interesting. He had heard this third gangster’s name uttered before, during that night. Voldemort had said it, said he was Dumbledore’s boy. He would have to find out what that meant when he got there. “Ron’s there?” 

Tom gave him a nod. “Most of St Brutus’s students are, even your cousin. He’s in Slytherin, with us.” 

Encouraged, Harry’s spirits lifted up a single notch. “When can I get released?” He was in a lot of pain, he doubted it would be today. 

“Soon, actually. Most of your wounds were superficial.” Tom looked down at the gauze wrappings encasing Harry’s torso. “Warrington really was shite at fencing, eh?” 

Harry looked at his ring again, puzzled. He held it up to Tom’s face. “How did I get this back? I swallowed it.” 

“Oh,” Tom shrugged, trying to hide his sudden apprehension. He took a second to come up with an answer that Harry might accept. “An X-ray picked it up. They removed it shortly after you got here.” He shifted around and got up on all fours to kiss Harry’s forehead. “You get some sleep. I have to drive back to St Brutus’s and pack our things. Hogwarts is pretty far away. We’ll head out as soon as they release you. Shouldn’t be longer than a day or two. I’ll come back and stay with you tonight so you aren’t alone.” He kissed Harry’s forehead again for good measure. “And I’ll let you drive part way there if you’re up for it.” 

Harry winced. His eyes started to droop. “Sounds good. Thanks, Tom.” 

Tom’s sad smile failed to leave him. “You look exhausted, go back to sleep. I’ll tell a nurse you need something for the pain.” He ruffled Harry’s hair. And before he knew it Tom had left the room. 

Harry curled onto his side, ignoring the pain so he could hug himself. He cupped the ring in his hand, holding onto it for dear life as tears rolled across the bridge of his nose and cheek, wetting the pillow under his head.

* * *

 

  **Four Months Later…**  

Classroom 1B was on the ground floor of the school, in the middle courtyard. An elderly woman stood behind her desk, her back turned to the students as she wrote down the instructions across a dusty blackboard. She looked behind her, hearing the steady growth of gossipping filling the room. She rapped her chalk on the board several times to get everyone’s attention. “I am well aware this is not the most exciting subject but I will not have you ignoring my lesson. Mr Malfoy, is there a problem?” 

The white haired boy sat back in his chair, smirking. “I don’t need to learn this. I have servants who cook for me.” Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle sat on either side of him, both laughing at his comment. 

“Oh,” she said, looking down the end of her nose at him. “I see. If it’s too difficult for you to understand perhaps we can put you in another class that might be more akin to your skill level. What do they call that class where they carve things out of wood, Mr Weasley?” 

“Woodworking, miss,” Ron said smugly, giving Draco a look. He nudged Harry’s arm. 

“Yes, thank you, Mr Weasley. Would that be more to your liking, Mr Malfoy? No? Then pick up those eggs and try not to get any shells in the bowl this time.” 

Draco gave Ron a rude gesture the moment Professor McGonagall returned her attention back to the blackboard. Harry rolled his eyes and landed them on the cookbook splayed out in front of him. Ron was mixing the batter and balancing a cake tin on the edge of the table. “Wait, you need to grease and flour that before you pour it in or it’ll stick,” Harry said without looking up, preventing Ron from filling the tin. 

“If you don’t have your cakes in the oven within five minutes, you will not have time to finish baking them. Oh my… Mr Dursley, how did it turn that colour? Throw it away!” 

Harry slumped back into his seat as Ron took the cake tin to the oven. A crumpled note hit him in the face and landed in the messy bowl recently emptied of its contents. He grabbed it and opened it up. _**~Slytherin common room after practice~**_ He glanced back at Draco and shrugged. “Okay,” he mouthed to him. 

Katie Bell and Dean Thomas passed by, each holding a cake tin. “Hey, cheer up, Potter,” Millicent Bulstrode clapped him on the back as she returned to her seat. “I heard they’ve lifted your ban on fencing today. Will we see you at practice? I need someone to take out my aggression on.” 

“It’s on, Bulstrode,” he replied coolly. 

Ron returned to the table. “There, all done, mate.” 

Harry was measuring powdered sugar for the icing. “Did you set the timer?” 

Ron got back up and returned to the oven. 

No matter how hard he tried to be happy, the feeling of melancholy consumed him. _He_ was always on his mind. Harry could not get over losing Lord Voldemort to those two boys that night. He ran through the memories of that incident again and again in his head trying to figure out what went wrong, what he could have done to change the outcome.

Hogwarts was indeed amazing, as Tom had told him. There was a magic to it, a whimsy that bordered on stuff fairy tales were made of. Headmaster Dumbledore took to him straight away. Everyone did their best to make Harry feel at home, but something unnatural was following; hiding in shadows just out of his sight. It was always ice cold, and it always felt like someone was watching him. No matter what he did, the feeling never went away. He was cursed. He would always be an outcast, forever haunted by the ghosts of his past. He wanted to be happy, he really did.

* * *

Drying his hair with a towel, Harry was oblivious of anyone sneaking up behind him. He was in the clouds again, but for the first time in a long while these clouds weren’t full of sadness. There was a spark alight inside him. It had been there since he got to practice earlier that evening. 

“Hey, baby.” 

“Oh!” Harry jumped. “Oh, Tom, you scared me!” he replied, holding his hand to his heart. He whirled around and tipped back against the basin with Tom looming over him. He pressed his hand over the older boy's heart to hold him at bay. This strange sense of being watched at all times seemed to never go away, and when someone did appear during them it always scared the hell out of him. “I’ll be there soon. Just give me a moment.” 

“Sure, Harry.” Tom hid his disappointment. Harry hadn’t reciprocated any sort of affection since the incident. Not with him, not with Draco. Not with anyone. The only thing on his mind anymore was the night in Durmstrang. “Hurry up, everyone’s waiting on you.” 

Harry tossed his towel into the linen bin. “Sorry, let’s go.” 

Fencing practice went a lot better than he had imagined it would. He assumed he’d have horrible flashbacks of that night once he picked up his foil, but it didn’t happen. For the first time since that night Harry felt a spark of interest ignite somewhere deep within his insides. It felt good to let out a little steam and move around. The class was jam packed full of students from every house. And after easily defeating Bulstrode, Harry practised with several of them. Some were good, some bad, but one was nothing short of amazing. 

At first, he thought it was Tom until Tom waved to him from across the room. 

“Who was that boy I was practising with?” 

“Hmm?” Tom asked, shrugging. “I dunno.” 

Harry scrunched his nose up in frustration. “He had on black gear. You had gear like that, I thought it was you. And he was really tall.” 

Tom cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? Developing a crush already? Tall almost always means he has a big gigantic cock, right?” 

“Shut up,” Harry said, giving him a shove. Big gigantic cocks were probably the last thing on his mind anymore. “He was a good fencer, is all. He was like a pro, he really gave me a challenge.” 

Tom paused and looked at him as he opened the common-room door. It hit him then, he knew who he was talking about. He scoffed at the gall of the one in the black gear, at his brazen defiance to any sort of rules. “Oh,” he said as he ushered Harry inside. “I think I know who you’re talking about. New fellow.” 

Draco Malfoy ran across the room, snagged Harry’s arm and ran back with him to his sofa. “Sit here, Tom,” he directed. “Harry, sit in the middle.” His pale grey eyes narrowed as he looked over the crowd of Slytherins sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him. He was and would always be a striking influence over anyone who came into contact with him. Draco was nothing short of captivating, and Harry was forever grateful he got the chance to become one of his closest friends. That, unlike everything else in his life, would never change. Draco pulled the boy into a headlock, threatening to shove his face into his crotch as he took a breath to again address the room. “Okay, lights off, get this going - and nobody look back at us no matter what you hear.” 

 _“Ugh.”_  

 _“With a Gryffindor?”_  

 _“Seriously?”_  

 _“Again?”_  

 _“I’m leaving.”_  

The room went dark and the telly glowed. Harry groaned. It was another stupid scary movie. He’d have nightmares for sure. Everyone in the room seemed to be paired up with someone. Draco and Tom were already tonguing each other in front of him. He smacked Draco’s shoulder a couple of times with the back of his hand. “Who was that bloke I was practising with tonight?” 

Draco squinted at him. “What? No talking, watch the movie.” 

Harry repeated the slapping action on Tom’s shoulder. “Is he in Slytherin, Tom?” 

“Currently?” Tom caught him by the face and pushed him back into the sofa. “No, shut up.” 

Harry looked around the dark room, shrugging. No one inside had the height or was that broad in the shoulders. Sadly, he wasn’t there. He pulled a hard candy from his pocket and popped it in his mouth. He needed to take his mind off of this new mysterious stranger who never took his mask off during practice. He had slipped out of the room before Harry knew it, and was gone. 

The movie was really dumb. Everyone was snogging all over the place. Draco was in his lap to be closer to Tom. A bit of drool dripped onto his cheek. “Blech, enough.” He wiggled over to the abandoned end of the sofa. Milicent Bulstrode was on the floor by him looking at him. He smiled and started watching the movie again. He heard shuffling noises beside him. Bulstrode was directly next to him now. 

“Oh boy,” he said, leaning over Draco to ask Tom another question. “So if he’s not in Slytherin, what house was he sorted into?” 

“For fuck’s sake.” Tom grunted and looked up at him. Sneering, he pulled his mobile out of his pocket and dialled a number. “Are you up for another practice yet? You’ve got an admirer here begging to know more about you. Mhm, okay, alright. Your funeral.” He ended the call and got up. “I’ll be right back.” 

“What’s that about?” Draco had Harry’s head in his lap, stroking his hair. “Why are you asking about another boy in front of me? I told you you'd never be able to not cheat on me.” 

“Your erection is poking me in the ear,” Harry whined, trying to avoid the trouser-covered monstrosity, but Draco’s fingers tightened in his hair. 

“Ha, you love it.” 

Harry gave it a kiss. “Yes, I do. Now, c’mon, who was that bloke I was fencing with tonight? The really tall one in black.” 

Draco shrugged. “No clue.” 

Tom shoved Harry off the sofa and dropped a folded piece of parchment on his face. “Follow those directions. Take your gear.” He pulled Draco into his arms and pressed their lips together. 

Harry got up, looking at the paper as he unfolded it. “What is this?” 

Tom gave him a shove towards the door. “A map. Don’t show it to anyone. Go already.” 

Harry smiled from a new bout of excitement fluttering in his tummy. “All right, thanks, Tom. See ya, Draco.” He grabbed his gear bag and left the room. 

Millicent sighed.

"What's wrong with you?" a deep voice whispered into her ear. She turned to her side to see who was speaking to her, and smiled at the discovery of finding one of the newer Slytherins sidled up beside her with an offering of microwave popcorn. Dudley Dursley returned her grin, liking what he was looking at. "This seat taken?" he asked her, pointing at her lap.

Millicent tipped her head with a smirk as she pulled him into her arms. "It is now."

* * *

It took nearly forever to reach the chamber. He had to find a hidden door in a girl’s lavatory and slide down a shaft in order to reach it. There was stuff in his hair. He ran his fingers through it trying to dislodge as much gunk as possible as he stepped up to the door. There was a large metal sculpture in front of it. “Say the password to the snake…Okay. ~ _Open up.~_ ” 

The door groaned loudly and opened. 

The inside was massive. Pillars and gigantic sculptures of more snakes lined the walls. Torches flickered all around him. His shaky footfalls echoed back to him. It was like walking into a nightmare. “Maybe this was a bad idea…” he said to himself. His heart was racing. He looked around in the shadows, seeing things moving in his peripheral vision. The sense of being watched grew stronger than ever. It was so quiet but he could feel the presence of someone else lurking close by. He looked down at the map again. Maybe he’d made a wrong turn. "Yeah, I'm gonna go back up."

_“Are you Harry Potter?"_

Hearing his name called out as he turned to leave stopped Harry in his tracks.  "Huh?"

_"That is your name, is it not? You're going the wrong way; I’m over here.”_

Harry looked behind him, startled. The boy he’d fenced with earlier was on the other side of the enormous room. He exhaled a sigh of relief, and the dormant butterflies that were dancing around in his belly earlier that evening became reanimated in a heartbeat. He grinned as he turned around to face him. "Cheers, mate."

“You’re late.” The mystery boy held up his sabre, resting the blade on his shoulder. “Let's go, Potter. Get your gear on. I want to play with you again.” 

“Play? Oh umm, right, yeah,” Harry said, shoving the map in his pocket and dropping his bag. He snorted, thinking about this surreal situation as he took a swift glance around the area. “Creepy place you got here.” 

“It’s my little hideaway; I call it 'the Chamber of Secrets'. So don’t tell anyone it’s down here.” The boy in the black leather gear crossed the room and stood next to Harry as he dressed, looking him up and down. “Not that just anyone could get in. You have to have a knack for finding hidden things, and you need to say the password properly in order to open the doors."

Harry glanced up at him as he tied his trainer. He was still wearing his mask. The metal protection was a lot more dense than the average net on a mask, with paint shading parts to it to give off the impression the mesh was a skull, effectively hiding the boy’s face behind it no matter how closely Harry peered at him. He flicked a finger at it before pulling his own free from his duffle. “You always have that on?” 

The other boy snorted, cocking his head. “Why, you want to see my face?” 

Harry shrugged, pretending he didn't. “Why are you starting here so late in the school year? It’s nearly summer.” He stood up and pulled his own mask on. He looked at the boy’s weapon and flinched unconsciously. This sword was not the same one he had used during practice. This one looked really expensive...and deadly. He took a careful step backward as his heart began to flutter. “That’s not a practice weapon.” His fingers curled over his own foil’s pistol grip, ready to fight for his life. 

“Scared, Potter?” The other boy thrust his weapon in position, creating a point-in-line directed at Harry’s heart. The golden blade gleamed from the light emanating from the torches blazing on the walls. He turned it to and fro to examine it closer, still holding the tip of it pointed dangerously close to Harry as he did. “Yes, it’s a real blade but you’re a big boy now, right? I think you can handle it. And don’t forget about our little practice session earlier this evening; I know what you're really capable of. I know your skill in fencing supersedes any of the other students in that room.” Pulling the sabre up, he canted his body back to create the same position, an aggressive move to be sure, ready to practice another engagement. “I started up this late because I was out of commission for a while. I found myself in an unescapable predicament I've just recently gotten myself out of.” 

"Oh, okay then..." Harry held his weapon ready. His heart was beating rapidly, his breath shallow. He was scared, he was elated. He hadn’t felt this alive in months. “Enough talk. Show me that move you did earlier. On guard.” 

“This?” The boy in black’s blade smacked Harry’s sword down and he lunged forward in one fluid motion. Taking the point, he relaxed momentarily. “It’s a simple attack but takes a little practice. Effective in provoking your opponent into doing something they aren’t thinking about.” 

Although an impressive move that it was, it wasn’t what Harry was referring to, and he was certain this boy knew that. He was so cunning with his cryptic words, guarded through his actions. It was clear this boy did not like showing all his cards, choosing to keep most of them up his sleeve. “Mhm, yeah, but you did something straight after with your wrist...after the lunge. I never saw it coming…”

"I have loads of moves most people don't see coming," the boy replied with a scoff. "It's one of my specialties." He moved back into a relaxed position and popped the joints in his neck to loosen up.

A sense of deja vu washed over Harry as he did his utmost to get some real answers out of this person. He cocked his head in curiosity. “Do I know you?” There was something about this boy that felt so familiar; his voice, a distinct scent lingering in the air, his arrogance and commanding presence; something very familiar. 

The boy ignored the question. “What are your plans for the summer?” 

"Professor Dumbledore banned me from practising fencing when I got here, he was afraid it would cause more trauma than good. But I’ve been studying up on it in the library.” Harry was a lot more tired than he’d first thought. He was already out of breath and they’d only just started. “I'll probably stay on here if Dumbledore allows it. I'm still trying to talk him into it; he wants to send me back to the Dursleys."

"Ugh," the boy in black moaned. "Those horrible people?"

"You've heard of them?" Harry asked him, shrugging.

"Read about them in the paper," the boy replied.

"Any way," Harry went on, "Tom said he might consider it since I haven’t got any sort of guardian anymore. When did you start fencing?” 

The boy in black swept closer, lunging forward. He nicked the boy’s mask with the tip of his blade, causing Harry to gasp from being caught off-guard. He pretended he didn’t see it. “I was around your age. Why would you stay here? Why not go home?” 

The flutter in his stomach grew. It nearly doubled Harry over. He couldn’t catch his breath. “I only started about four months ago. There’s no way you’ve only been doing this in that amount of time, your skill is amazing.” He raised his weapon again but the boy in black’s feinting of gliding coulés sent chills that crawled over his flesh each and every time his blade would skitter or draggle against his foil. This boy was dangerous with his weapon and precise movements. Harry was reminded of that night in Durmstrang when he fought against Cassius Warrington. And although this opponent’s skill was far superior to Warrington’s, Harry began to doubt that this person who lured him down to the depths of the castle had not done so for nefarious reasons. He took an unconscious step backward, hardly noticing that his weapon was shaking in his hand. “Who are you?” 

As if he could read the boy’s mind, the boy in black brought his weapon back to his personal space with a snicker. “Relax, Potter, I’m not going to hurt you. I think we’ve both had enough violence in our pasts to last us a lifetime. Tell me why you won’t go home.” 

Noting the receding aggression, Harry loosened up a bit. “I’ve been reading everything I can about fencing and some of those moves you used during practice aren’t written in any of the books I’ve checked out. Your skill is really advanced. And because, I…I don’t want to go home. It’s not really my home. I've never even lived there, it’s just a old house.” 

"You've got to admit though," the boy in black said, snickering, "it's a bloody nice house." The ever-naive trust Harry was showing the boy would always be his downfall. Taking advantage of his loose posture he lunged at him. And almost without thinking Harry counter-attacked by instinct, blocking his strike. The boy in black chuckled behind his mask. “I’m impressed, that was good. I thought I had you there.” He let his head loll back behind him for a brief moment, adjusting to the strain he was putting on his weakened muscles. “Funnily enough, I’m also staying on here this summer. I'll be down here all by myself," he said in a spooky tone that caused goose bumps to rise up on Harry's arms.

In some odd way Harry was hoping that was an invitation for him to visit more often. "Why's that?" he asked him, needing to learn more about this odd bloke and his cryptic words. He didn't even know his name. Movement along the floor in the darkness caught his attention. Something was out there, hiding in the shadows. An unseen creature, very large, very scary, was calling his name. His teeth clattered at the shivers running down his spine.

"Ignore that; it's nothing. Stay focused, Potter." The boy in black snapped his fingers in the Gryffindor's face to keep his attention. "I'm staying on because I can’t go home any more...for ominous reasons I can't really get into at this moment." He changed the subject, curious about what Harry was thinking about him. He stepped in closer, holding his sabre behind his back as he closed in on Harry's personal space. He inhaled the lovely scent of strawberry shampoo and cherry bubblegum, two of his favorite aromas. "So, Potter, how old do you think I am?” 

Harry backed out and pulled his mask off to catch his breath, to put some space between them. This boy was scary, a phantom of the shadows that always followed him. “I dunno, my age? I’m nearly eighteen. I suppose you can’t be much younger or older than that. Why can’t you go home?” 

Nearly eighteen. So young, far too young to have lived such a life and to give up on love before he ever had a chance to truly experience it. He was far too young to be in love with an older dead man. Still, something had stopped inside the orphan, something inside of him that needed to live in order for him to grow. Harry looked wilted, dying on the inside, its poison now showing signs of it on the outside. His fresh face had yet to smile, and this mystery boy knew this all too well. He had been watching Harry from a distance over the last month, since the moment he arrived at the school. Tired of hiding this fact any longer, he moved in closer again, now standing directly behind the other boy. “It’s not safe. I’m hiding from bad people. Why don’t you want to go home? I read about you in the papers. Does it have anything to do with that?” 

“Yeah,” Harry admitted, crouching to go through his bag to find his water. He hadn't noticed how close the other boy was to him. “I don’t think I can handle it yet. It’s haunted, in a sense. I don’t think I can deal with all the old ghosts in there. And Tom’s fine with me staying on.” 

The boy in black nodded in agreement as he watched him. “That’s good of him.” 

“Who are you hiding from?” Harry took a mouthful of water before he held the bottle out behind him to the other boy. 

He took it. “I’ll tell you later.” The boy in black pulled his mask off and took a swig of it. 

Harry dropped his mask in the bag and started removing his lame jacket. His attention was focused on the excitement he was experiencing. Despite being exhausted, he really wished he could feel safe enough to stay down there with this boy and talk some more. He felt drawn to him. He was afraid of him, but he liked it. He loved it. “I’m sorry, I’m too tired to go on, only just started fencing with a sword again."

"Understandable," the boy in black replied, handing Harry the water bottle.

Harry tightened the cap and dropped it into his duffle bag. He pulled the drawstrings upward to close it up. "Let’s go back up. Oh, what house were you sorted into? We could walk back together and you can show me that wrist thing.” 

The boy in black pulled a cigarette out of a pack from his hip pocket and lit it. “Slytherin.” 

“Slytherin? You’re not-” Harry looked up at him and froze. His breath stuck in his throat as he backed up in shock. He needed to run, run far away. "No..."

"Wait!" Before Harry's brain signalled his legs to bend and run out of there the boy in black snatched him. He coiled himself around the boy and rode out the myriad of emotions he was suffering through. “Harry, stop, honey. It’s okay, I’ve got you. C’mon now, stop this fighting,” he said in a soothing coo while he stroked the boy’s hair and prevented his escape.

"It can't be you--you're dead," Harry cried.

Despite the pain from a still-healing wound, Lord Voldemort refused to let Harry run. He could feel the boy’s muscles contract against him. He waited for them to soften, and only then would he release him from his clutches. “Harry, please calm yourself. It’s real, hon - Look at me; it’s really me, it's your TM, I swear it. I'm so sorry I did this to you. Please believe me.” 

“Let me go!” Harry shouted, finding himself inescapably incapacitated. Tears leaked from his eyes as he struggled physically and mentally over this abrupt shift in the strange adventure he called life. Feeling defeated, he crumbled in his embrace. "Please let me go..."

“No, darling, not yet. Please relax now. I’m not going to hurt you,” Voldemort whispered into his hair, now rethinking how this reunion might turn out. He waited, holding the boy in his arms with all of his might to keep him from running off and telling someone where he was.”Please, love, give me a chance to explain.” 

“How is this possible? How can you still be alive? Tom said you died. Everyone said you were dead,” Harry cried to him.

"Tom did what I told him to do, Harry," Voldemort told him. "He wanted to tell you the truth. It was killing him watching you slowly give up on life. He couldn't tell you, I wouldn't let him."

"Why, TM? Why wouldn't you let him!?" Harry let Voldemort ease him up against a tall stone sculpture of a snake, shifting him around so he could put his back to it and face him. His eyes were damp with tears, they were searching, scanning the lord's handsome face to find the truth. His breathing began to soften and his muscles loosened, but his teeth clenched. “Tell me why you did this,” he ordered. 

Voldemort dared to remove one of his hands. He held it up in peace, showing the boy he could be trusted. “You’re not going to run off on me, are you?” 

“I don’t know yet,” Harry replied. This whirlwind of a revelation made him dizzy. He used the statue behind him to keep him steady, not wanting to show Voldemort any weakness. “Start talking.” 

“It’s not like I wasn’t close to death,” the lord began, still holding Harry against the statue as he spoke. “I was in intensive care for nearly a month. But when I realised that you’d live that night while we were waiting for help to arrive I decided right then and there that I wanted you to have a future, to start over…without me. You should never have been put into this situation to begin with. I wanted you to have a chance at a normal life. You’re so young…far too young to be saddled down with me. And I was in hiding because the police were rounding everyone up - it was just logical for me to let you go. You deserve so much better; I’m twenty years older than you, and I’m not a good guy.” 

“Who cares what you are,” Harry snapped back. He felt himself stop shaking from fear and confusion, but started trembling with anger instead. “Don't tell me what I deserve, either. I knew what you were before I even met you: I knew you were trouble, I knew you were a gangster, and I knew you weren't a good guy. I knew what I was getting into, and maybe for a time I didn’t want to continue this relationship with you either. Maybe I knew I was in over my head - but it was too late to get out then. The damage was done.” He reached up, grabbing Voldemort by the lame jacket and yanked him closer. “You selfish bastard. I fell in love with you, but you dumped me like rubbish when it got too tough to face what happened to us that night. I had no one to talk to. No one could relate to what we went through. Just you. Only you could, and you stole that from me when you hid yourself away and played dead.” 

“Oh, Harry,” Voldemort whispered, feeling himself choke up. Tears began to pool into the corners of his eyes. He swiped at them unconsciously, never experiencing a bout of remorseful crying before, mistaking the sensation as irritation instead. ”You’re right, you’re absolutely right; what I did was selfish, and I robbed you of that and I’m sorry. I…I just feel so guilty about it. I feel terrible about losing control when I could have used my cunning to get us out safely. What good is being sagacious if when it comes down to it you panic? It was killing me to think I couldn’t stop them when I actually could have stopped them."

"But you did stop them," Harry reminded him.

Voldemort shook his head. "Not soon enough, and it kills me to think something like this could happen again if we stay together. Why did I run out of St Brutus's to get you before making a plan to get in and out without you getting hurt? I had a man on the inside, he was with us...Why did I send Mulciber off to get help when I should have known Grindelwald was putting time into finding exciting ways to torture us and not watching us while his minions did this? I just want to forget, I want you to forget about that night, and me, and move on with your life.” 

“How very selfless of you,” Harry replied sarcastically. “Hiding just gives them more power. All I had was you. It would take a million of them to equal one of you. Don’t try to pretend things like this happen all the time and we'd risk having this happen to us again...We didn't do this to them--they did this to us! We didn't do anything to deserve what happened that night, neither of us. Look at me," he said, cupping his handsome face in his hands. "It's not your fault, TM. Do you understand me?” 

“Yes, I know,” Voldemort replied, flabbergasted. His voice went soft as his throat closed up on him. He struggled to swallow, but that night kept playing in his mind on an endless loop. But Harry was right; if he kept running from it he would never face it, and the boys who did this would win by crippling his mind with the memory. “I won’t run away from it anymore. I'll face this, I'll accept it.” 

“Last thing, TM," Harry informed him. He was on a roll and if he stopped he might lose his nerve and never say it, but it needed to be said or he would never get over it, he would never be able to forgive this man for placing such a heavy burden on him. "You don't get to choose my life for me. If I wanna spend it with a filthy crime lord that's my problem.” He shrugged off Voldemort’s remaining hand. Although he was one of the tallest males in his classes, he had to get up on his toes to meet this man eye to eye. “If you leaving me would give me back my life - I don’t want it.” 

"Is that so?" Voldemort violently grabbed Harry before he could stop him and yanked him into his arms. His lip curled up in a sneer, filled with the rage and hatred that had been building up inside of him over the last four months. This was reckless, more selfish than anything he had ever done. And he had done a lot of things wrong.

Harry's eyes enlarged at the abrupt snatching. He gasped so prettily from excitement and fear of the unknown.

Voldemort loved that sound. He missed this. Oh god he missed this. Taking control, he snarled as he clamped down on any attempt for Harry to escape, refusing to release him. Not that Harry was trying to get away. It had always been a weakness, this bravery that the boy exuded with him. Harry did not fear him, he was an equal - his equal. The lord relished in this knowledge. He tipped Harry back over his arm and loomed over him to watch his reaction. “Well, if that’s the way it has to be you’d better shut up for a minute and let me kiss you.” 

“Fine,” Harry retorted as he leaned upward, wrapping his arms around the man’s neck. He scowled at him. “Kiss me then, see if I care.” 

And he kissed him. It was firstly soft, their lips began brushing against the other to linger in its supple warmth. It roused the boy’s broken heart, his pulse beating faster. And the man sipped at his throat with little delicate kisses, relishing from feeling his lover’s heart thumping between them so hard, grown stronger, brought back to life so fully in his embrace.

Harry got lost in the rustling of their clothing as he pressed upward to intensify the kiss. He tightened his arms around Voldemort’s neck, drawing him closer. He was dizzy, high from feeling their bodies so tightly together. This was real. TM was alive. 

Lord Voldemort tipped his head back to look upon the boy in his arms when Harry had slumped in his embrace. “Harry?” Blinking rapidly, the man gave him a little shake. The boy had gone limp draped over his arm, as if the kiss was too much for him to bear. TM's heavy breaths grew stronger as he looked him over to see what had happened. He tapped his cheek with the tips of his fingers. He leaned inward, listening for sounds of breathing. "Harry, what's wrong?"

“What's wrong? I think I died and went to heaven,” the boy murmured, grinning as his eyes fluttered open. 

Lord Voldemort smirked at him. “Ooh, you are naughty,” he replied. In an instant he swept the boy into his arms once more, again ignoring the pain so he could feel his heart beating against his. His own eyes closed, he was whole again and he would never let let anything happen to him again. “Now that I have you, I doubt I’ll ever let you go."

"So you say," Harry replied, meeting his smirk. "We'll see how long you can last."

The filthy crime lord rolled his eyes. "Yeah, we'll see. But I’m afraid we’ll always have to hide ourselves to be together. Is that something you’re willing to do?” 

Harry spotted Nagini slithering through the corridor. Another enormous serpent followed closely behind her. He looked around laughing to himself as reality finally sunk in. Inhaling his lost lover’s fragrance, he nuzzled into his neck and bit him on his pulse point, licking the skin trapped in his teeth. “Mmm, what do you think?” 

“I think I need a drink. Maybe you do, too. Come with me,” Voldemort said, turning around to walk into the chambers with the boy of his dreams now safely in his arms again. And those two young men who did this to them would pay, they would dearly pay for what they did to Harry. It would be slow, painful, satisfying and maybe even a little fun - but vengence was one thing on Voldemort's bucket list that Harry need not know about. Somehow he knew the boy wouldn't allow it to happen no matter how badly he wanted it to. The lord nuzzled up against his lover, smiling, feeling warm and whole again because his little kitten was back in his arms. He gestured to the enormous room they were about to enter.

“Let me show you around the place while you tell me all about school.” 

The End

　　

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I hope it didn't disappoint.  
> If you liked it let me know and gimme kudos! Thanks :)


	20. The Chamber of Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry helps Lord Voldemort take advantage of his 'dead' status with loads of lovely sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I really hated only having 19 chapters. This is really just a bonus scene, smut I rewrote that was cut from the original. I added some exposition I hadn't gotten around to adding, not that it was really needed, but whatever. This is it, I promise. 
> 
> Top Harry/Bottom Voldemort and vice versa.

Winding through the darkness, making its way toward a lighted quarter that flickered with flame, an enormous snake wound its way around and up the post of a very large, ornate bed. It reached out toward the centre, its great head watching with desire to taste the delicious morsel perched within the bed’s confides. The boy she was eyeing tipped his head and stretched to meet her, pressing his soft lips against her mouth, feeling her tongue slithering to caress his cheek. Seemingly satisfied, she retreated the way she came, back to entwine with the other even larger serpent hidden within the depths of the secret chamber.

Resting back with a content sigh, Harry resumed flipping through one of the magazines from the stack he nicked from under one of his dorm mate’s beds. “Ooh, this one looks interesting.” He balanced the colourful pages on his knees, studying the pictures of birds and blokes having one off in every fashion imaginable. He held up a page, giggling. “Have you ever done this?”

“Probably. It’s not easy, if I recall correctly. Involves a bit of practice.”

“What about this?”  
  
Lord Voldemort looked off to the side of the room, irritation etched on his face. “This is your last warning. I’m going to count to three, if you-”  
  
“Shut up,” snipped Harry, pressing his toes into the Lord’s jaw to close it. He snuggled back into position; leaning his back against Voldemort’s bent legs, wiggling his bum over the man’s painful erection. Voldemort’s wrists were trussed together and bound over his head to the bedstead. He was trapped under Harry, who was using him as a warm cushy seat very effectively.　  
  
“I’ve changed my mind. I don’t have your patience for this. Cut me loose right now,” he said snootily proper, craning to look up at the boy sitting smugly over his groin.　  
  
“Oh, no. If I untie you, you’re not getting any,” retorted Harry, keeping his eyes glued to the magazine.  
  
“I’m not getting any anyway…”  
  
“Oh, you big cry baby.” Harry threw the magazine off the bed and curled up on his side over top of him. He drew his tongue up, long and slow, over Voldemort’s tortured cock. “So used to immediately getting what you want. Is that better, widdle baby? Gonna stop whining now?”  
  
“Yes.” Voldemort threw his head back into the pillows and moaned.　  
  
Harry dragged his fingernails around his inner thighs, parting them, sending shivers throughout his body. “If you complain anymore, I’m going to gag you and torture you all night instead of this…” Again, he curled his tongue around the base of the man’s shaft, stroking it lovingly.  
  
“I’ll shut up,” grumbled Voldemort.  
  
“Mmm, good to see you can obey so well, TM,” said Harry seductively. Gripping his needy manhood, he lapped at his cock like an ice cream cone, tasting every throbbing inch of it.　  
  
“So good to see you’ve fully recovered.” Voldemort said through another fit of breathtaking shivers, fascinated by the boy’s sudden impish side.  
  
“And you,” Harry said between kitty-laps of his tongue, sweeping over the head of his weeping cock.　“Very happy about that.”  
  
“Very happy,” sighed Voldemort.　“About me and you down here in the dark, scary chamber.”  
  
“Mhmm. Arch up for me,” instructed Harry. He kissed the tip of Voldemort’s huge prick as it rose to greet him. He gave his hip a pinch. “Come on, you can do better than that. Put some back into it and fuck my mouth.” With a crinkled nose, he slapped the man’s inner thigh. His sweet voice had shifted as he knelt over the man’s hot member. He was rakish and spry. “If you don’t do exactly as I say, you’re not going to come. You are doing all of the labour.”  
  
Voldemort dug in to the mattress and arched up. He groaned pathetically as his cock slipped past Harry’s swollen lips. “Oh fuck,” he cried. Harry was perched like a cat on his abdomen, making his struggle to reach his mouth difficult.　  
  
“I can’t hear you moaning.” Harry pointed behind his back to him. “Come on, TM, louder and harder.” He was snapping his fingers at him. “I want to taste your hot come as it hits the back of my throat.” Harry was stunningly erect. Unable to control his lust or keep his free hand away from between his legs, he mewled wantonly against the Lord’s cock.　  
  
Jerking at his restraints, Voldemort’s breath grew harsh and uneven. He bucked hard, dying to achieve the reward of the beautiful mouth that awaited each thrust. As he neared climax, his body nearly gave out. He was breathless and weak. His muscles trembled, his legs fell apart. At last, the boy gripped his rock-hard shaft and plunged down, taking the length into his throat.　  
  
Drawing hard, sucking just the way he liked it up from the base, Harry felt Voldemort’s lovely balls tighten in his hand. A darling little cry tickled his ears as the fierce Lord crumbled beneath him, spilling his hot sticky seed along his merciless tongue. “Oh, so gorgeous,” mewed Harry, licking the man to clean him, hearing his rasped breathing begin to even out.  
  
“Oh, Harry, that was…” Lord Voldemort looked up at the boy through half-closed eyes as he slowly crawled up along his body. Harry leaned in, dipping his tongue into the man’s mouth, giving him a taste of his precious nectar. His head crashed back against the pillows. He was drained of all energy. “That was so good.”  
  
Harry looked at him darkly and clipped his cheek a few times. “We’re not done yet.”　  
  
Voldemort gasped. His eyes opened slowly.　  
  
Harry ran his fingers along his jaw, caressing the stubble on his skin and lifting his chin with a knuckle. “You have to do me before I’ll untie you,” he told him. He stroked his lovely length over the Lord. “I’m really fucking close, been touching myself while I sucked you off. C’mon now, wake up, get your mouth on it.”  
  
“Oh, yes,” he groaned, feeling his cock begin to set in stone once more. Harry cupped the nape of his neck to lift his head while he rested his knees on each side of him.　  
  
The tattoo on the boy’s pelvis stirred Voldemort’s senses with the vilest of thoughts. Eagerly, he ran his tongue along the snake’s throat. Harry smelled of sweet candy floss and tasted like absolute power. He locked onto Harry’s perfectly emerald almond-shaped eyes, basking in his presence. “You’re beautiful,” he wept, slowly dying of adoration beneath him.  
  
With a muffled groan, Harry held his hand over his mouth to stifle the urge to scream. In the velvet warmth of Lord Voldemort’s claiming mouth, he drew in shivering inhales to calm himself. “I’m so close,” he whined in falsetto, fighting off the visions in his head that made this union so utterly wrong.　  
  
Lord Voldemort quickened his pace with the desire to feel the burning seed splash over his tongue. In a fit of convulsions, Harry squeaked and gnashed his teeth. He bent inward, threading his fingers through the soft waves of raven hair and squirmed in delight as an incredible climax soared hot through his veins. He fell on top of him, breathless.　  
  
Their mouths met, again sharing the rewards of their labour through twisted tongues and heavy panting. Harry reached up over his head and yanked at the end of the cord, severing the slip knot binding the Lord to the bed.　Shaky arms quickly wrapped around him. “Even though I’m never letting you do that again, I will admit it felt amazing.” Voldemort traced the tips of his fingers over the scars on Harry’s shoulder, a cruel reminder of their pasts. “Are you still having those nightmares?”

“No.” He stuck his thumb in his mouth as he rubbed the sting from his scar.

“Don’t lie to me, tell the truth. You had one last night. I woke you up, remember?”

Harry pouted. “Why are you asking if you know I still am?”

“Because I’ve gotten some bad news.” He nuzzled into Harry’s neck, wishing he could change the outcome. He was currently powerless, though, as the world still thinking him dead. The nightmares they shared were a grave reminder of that horrible evening six months before and would most likely worsen once school resumed. “Your precious headmaster is allowing those boys from Nurmemgard to attend next term.” He felt Harry tense up in his arms. “Not the ones… They’ve already finished like Tom has. The others, they’re your age or younger. We have this pact, see? Dumbledore owes me nothing, he’s not going to stop their enrolment.”

“Why would he allow this? They’re horrible people.” Harry clenched his fists.

He sneered. “He can’t help himself, he’s a goody goody. He sees the light in everyone. He even saw it in me once.”

“I still see it in you - shut up,” he said, covering the man’s mouth before he could speak. “Why here, though?”

“To keep our children safe. Crime Lords, you know. Everyone here is related to a gangster who’s paid to keep them safe. You’re all a bunch of targets without our protection, there’s no where else we’d allow our people’s offspring to go. Grindelwald broke a very important rule when he had you taken out of St Brutus’s. All that stuff I said about his boys were lies. He knew I wouldn’t harm them, and I was almost certain he wouldn’t harm you… almost. His boys lost control, I believe when you out fenced them as a beginner. They got carried away. They weren’t supposed to do anything more than scare the hell out of you and make me watch it. Or so I was told, I’m not thoroughly convinced.”

“I see. Does Dumbledore hate you, too?”

“Oh, yes.” The Lord laughed, his head falling back into his pillow as the cackle tapered off. “I relish on the image of him discovering that we live down here in his school’s deepest chambers. He would never hurt you, though. I trust this about him with all of my being. I was preparing on moving out when classes start back up but now that I know they’ll be attending here I might stay on longer.”

“I’m not related to a gangster.”

Again, the Lord laughed darkly. Harry waited it out, tapping his fingers on the man’s hips with impatience. “God, you don’t know anything, do you? Those terrible relatives of yours never told you?”

Harry bit him. “You’re not going to start laughing again when I say ‘no’, are you?”

“I’ll try my best,” he replied, biting him back. “Oh, alright. Your parents, Harry, they served under Dumbledore. He’s the one who put you in hiding when they were killed. Professor Granger is his people, that’s why she works here now. Black is, too, he’s in prison, though. Hell, that headmaster who got sacked at Smeltings is one of his, too. It’s all one big hamster wheel that we trot.”

“What about Ron? And don’t laugh.”

“Dumbledore’s.”

“And Neville?”

“Dumbledore’s.”

“Wow. I had no idea. And my parents were Dumbledore’s?”

“Yep,” Voldemort said lazily.

He smirked wickedly. “So shouldn’t I be with him, then?” He sat up to leave but the Lord pulled him back down.

“Don’t you dare. It’s freezing down here. Who will keep me warm?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” he said, giggling. “~ _Nagini_!~ Hmm, she was here not too long ago, I’ll go find her.”  
  
“Silly.” Lord Voldemort captured the boy’s wrists and pinned them together. “Snakes are cold blooded creatures. I’m afraid I must insist that you stay.” He raised his arms over his head as he nudged him back against the mattress to wind the rope still knotted to the bedstead around his wrists.

“Ow, ow, tight.”  
  
“Shh,” Voldemort shushed, “I know your threshold for pain is a lot greater than you let on. I was there, remember?”

Harry glared up at him as he loomed over and leered at his pretty body. “You’d better not tell anyone, I’m warning you, Crime Lord.”

The beautiful man ran his tongue over the lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead first, relishing in the salty sweat pearling on the boy’s face. He was rock-hard yet again, and dying to fuck the slumber into the sweet-faced boy. “Ooh, I like it when you get nasty.” He began rifling through a drawer next to the bed. “Where’s that cherry stuff? I’m going to shag my prisoner’s tight little arse till he passes out.”

“Help, help, someone help me,” Harry said through a fit of giggling. “About to be shagged to sleep by a wicked gangster!”

“Roll over, arse in the air.” He snapped his fingers several times until Harry complied. That lovely ass was presented to the Lord, who ran his slicked fingers up along the cleft, his tongue sweeping back and forth along his top lip. He leaned in, drawing it proffered up the length of the tattoo. “So lovely, your ass,” he whispered, placing one hand on the boy’s hip, curling his fingers around his pelvic bone, the other buried in his wild hair to wrench his head away from the pillows. “Open,” he ordered, smacking the boy’s mouth to cram his fingers inside. “Bite, good and hard.” Harry bit down on his fingers the instant he was taken, causing both he and Lord Voldemort to tense fully and hiss hot breath.

Two mammoth serpents entered the room, each taking one side of the bed. They wound their way up along the posts, atop the canopy clinging to twine with the other and enshroud their masters, all hissing and stroking, hung suspended above them. They remained as one in their Chamber of Secrets biding their time in the best way possible in wait for the day to arrive to leave, to have a life together, to rule again and to punish their enemies.

At least that was Lord Voldemort’s plan.


End file.
